Phase Shift
by Bloodhawk 248
Summary: One decision changes everything. Chance rips Harry's boon companions from his side, and replaces them with a knight who's apparently immune to magic. Somehow, Harry thinks he's better off.
1. Chapter 1

The universe is a machine that runs itself. The chain of events perpetuated by thinking individuals constantly breaks and reforms itself, with each choice begetting more, and so on. However, there is always a plan, always an ultimate goal and a pathway to that goal. Despite what the scientists and intellectuals of every reality might say, entropy and chaos do not factor in to the universe's great design. Everything always proceeds according to the Scenario.

Always.

Something as vast as the universe, though, cannot run perfectly. There are always errors, those that slip through the vigorous system of checks and balances. Each reality exists continuously, permanently, so that even when the story concludes and the characters take their final bows, it is still happening somewhere. And so, every story may turn out a little differently in each of its infinite runs.

It is...somewhat entertaining to watch these characters react to their changing situations, unaware that they have experienced their lives' events far more often than they would think. But of course, they haven't; each character is a shade different from the other versions of themselves that populate the diverse realities of the universe, and so cannot be said to be the same.

How would Great Britain's timeline have played out, if Harry Potter had been left alone to continue his quest for the Horcruxes? A hypothetical question, but one that can be given real weight and observed quite seriously, if one has the tools. And so one does.

Here, let me show you.

* * *

Rain pounded the tent like the fist of God, though said fist of God would probably only need one punch to blow aforementioned tent and all its occupants to Heaven.

Though in this case, Harry was sure at least one of them was going to hell. At least the scenery would match his hair.

Ronald Weasley stood opposite him, glaring down with angry, sky-blue eyes. His fists were clenched and he was breathing heavily, chest shuddering with the movement. Harry knew he probably looked the same way, though likely a bit less intimidating.

Hermione Granger stood between them, brown eyes rimmed with tears. Her hands were shaking, and the wand she had used to force them apart remained upright. She looked as if about to say something, but refrained. Why, Harry wasn't sure. It couldn't be worse than the things they had just said.

"Leave the Horcrux." Harry's voice sounded cold, more so than ever before, and for a minute he wasn't completely sure it was his.

His best friend pulled the locket over his head and threw it onto the nearby chair, turning away contemptuously. He fixed Hermione with an azure stare.

"What are you doing?"

She bit her lip, struggling to meet his gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you staying, or what?"

"I..." Hermione trembled, her gaze dropping. Harry felt a surge of relief, she was going to stay, she would pick him over Ron-

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. His eyes immediately went to Ron, who was now grinning with a savage triumph, and then back to Hermione, who looked as if she would like nothing more than to disappear into the ground.

"Hermione..." Harry's voice was thick with desperation. "Why?"

Ron walked over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Hermione seemed to sink into his embrace, leaning against him with a slight sigh.

"Well..." her voice trembled and hiccupped, "Well, you see, maybe it would be best if we all just took a breather from this Horcrux business...we're not getting anywhere, maybe we should regroup. The Order, maybe they'll know what to do...Dumbledore can't have left them _completely _without answers."

She looked at him pleadingly, brown eyes begging him to see reason. Ron looked slightly disgruntled, but didn't say anything. Instead, his arm tightened around Hermione's shoulders.

Suddenly, all the past months made sense. The exchanged glances, the huddled whisperings. He'd thought they had been concerned about him; instead, they'd been concerned about each other. A bitter smile came to his lips; that was a little better, if they'd spent their time snogging instead of discussing how crazy he was.

"I see how it is." The words that came from Harry's mouth chilled even him; the glacial calm that belied his anger was unnatural. Dimly, he was aware that he was changing; the reaction wasn't one he would have had a year ago. The hunt for the Horcruxes was changing him. That was the only explanation.

He didn't want to admit that perhaps the change had started even before then, when the visions of Voldemort had become more visceral, more real. He didn't want to admit that he might be turning into the thing he had dedicated his life to destroying.

"Go on then, both of you." He waved a hand. "Go on back to the Burrow; you can have a kip sucking face when Voldemort kills everyone-"

Ron's face reddened and his hand clenched, but Hermione put a hand on his arm.

"Don't, Ron...Let's just go."

He looked as if he wanted to say something, but nodded stiffly, wrapped his arm more tightly around her shoulders, and guided her out of the tent. As he left, he dug in his pocket and produced the Deluminator.

"Take it." He tossed it roughly onto the tent's table. "You'll need it, probably, the way you're carrying on."

Hermione paused at the tent's entrance, then rummaged in her bag and removed the battered, well-worn copy of fairy tales Dumbledore had given her. She placed it gently on the desk.

"Well, then..." her voice trembled. "Good luck, Harry."

Harry sat down, feeling his rear contact the chair hard. "Whatever." He didn't watch them leave, and only dimly heard the twin cracks of Apparition that signaled their final departure.

In a way, this was probably the best outcome. Alone, he would be able to move freely and without hindrance. He would be free to discover Voldemort's Horcruxes and destroy them, and should he be discovered, only he would suffer. No one else would be hurt, no one else would have to die for him.

So then, why did he feel so empty?

Dumbledore would probably have called it love, and Harry supposed he was right. The love of friends, the bond of friendship made everything easier. Despite his reservations, he had indeed found the burden easier to bear when Hermione and Ron had been at his side.

And now they were gone. Ron was right; he had no ideas. All he had was one Horcrux he could not destroy, three he could not find, and no one else to lean on.

Tears blurred his vision, and he slammed a fist into the table. How was he supposed to win now?

* * *

The rain continued to pour down ceaselessly on the tent as Harry sat inside, leafing through a pile of old books. The quest to destroy the Horcruxes continued on, if only on old paper for now.

_Horcruxes are creations of darkest magic, and as such are resistant to all but the most powerful of spells, many of which are even darker in nature. Objects that have been known to destroy Horcruxes include basilisk fangs and enchanted weaponry, while the spell Fiendfyre is suspected to be of similar effectiveness in dealing with Horcruxes. Unfortunately, basilisk fangs are very rare these days and weapons with the power to dispose of such dark creations are also ancient enough that they have been lost to time. Fiendfyre, while possibly one of the more tangible options, is notoriously unpredictable and difficult to control, and there have been many recorded instances where even experienced and capable dark wizards have been consumed by casting it._

"...Great." Harry set the book down with a thump and collapsed onto the desk. "Lovely. Tell me what I already know, why don't you."

He didn't really fancy using Fiendfyre, especially since it was apparently as likely to destroy you as it was your target. As for magical weapons and basilisk fangs, he had neither. The sword of Gryffindor, the only magical weapon he knew of, was at Hogwarts where the chances of obtaining it were only slightly higher than Voldemort spontaneously combusting. The only source of basilisk fangs that he knew of was likewise at Hogwarts, with the same chance of obtaining it.

So, summing it all up: he was absolutely no closer to destroying the Horcruxes than he had been before his friends left. In fact, his chances were substantially lower; without Hermione's magical know-how and even Ron's second pair of willing, if rather unskilled, hands, he probably wouldn't be able to carry on the quest.

His stomach growled, and he groaned. That was probably the source of his doubts; he was better used to hunger than Ron, but there was a point where that didn't mean anything, and he was there. He needed to get something to eat, maybe then he'd be able to sort this mess out.

* * *

"_Stupefy!"_

The red bolt of light soared from his outstretched wand and hit the doe just as it made to bound off. Its eyes rolled up in its head and it collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Harry lowered his wand and regarded the fallen animal somewhat skeptically. He hadn't actually been sure that the spell would work, but apparently it had. Now all he had to do was kill the animal, gut it, clean it, and then somehow make it edible. A monumental task, compounded by the fact that he knew absolutely nothing about how to go about accomplishing it.

_I guess I should kill it first. If it wakes up there'll be a problem._

Hesitantly, Harry knelt down by the body, gazing at the deer's head. He raised his wand.

"_Diffindo."_

A tear appeared in the deer's throat, and blood gushed out, darkening the grass around it. The deer twitched and convulsed, legs thrashing around in desperate, instinctive motion, before finally going still.

Harry sighed and considered the body. He lifted his wand again and muttered, _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

The deer rose into the air, and Harry grunted as his arm suddenly felt heavy. Quickly, he began walking in the direction of the tent, wand out, with the deer floating behind him. If anyone saw him there would be many awkward questions to be answered.

Fortunately, no one did. The trip back to the tent was uneventful, and once within the defensive charms that ringed it he felt much safer.

He stashed the deer in one corner, absently murmuring a charm that would slow down decay and prevent it from stinking up the tent. It looked so out of place among the desks and books that littered the leather cave.

Once again, he plopped down on a chair and opened another book, one of the thickest so far. Hermione had left quite a few, possibly to assuage her conscience so that he wouldn't be completely alone. So far, though, they hadn't helped.

Another look through _Magicks Most Evile _revealed nothing save a depraved and ingeniously twisted usage of toadstools, which Harry quickly decided was useless and disgusting at that. He tossed the book aside.

One more book lay in the pile, and with a halfhearted hand Harry pulled it over, staring blankly at the cover. It was a small book compared to the dusty monsters Hermione had left him; only about two hundred pages, as opposed to the odd-thousand page tomes that seemed to be the norm.

It was entitled _Familiars: Separating the Myth from the Magic. _Harry opened the book, and read, increasingly fascinated:

_The modern-day wizard knows little of familiars, believing them superstitious nonsense conjured by the fearful peasants of the medieval world as a way to incriminate 'warlocks' and 'witches'. Nowadays, the word has come to mean a magical creature that keeps a wizard company, such as Emeric the Evil's Long-Toothed Viper or Frederick the Forgetful's Fair-Furred Fox._

_However, the stories of magical constructs being summoned by enterprising wizards have more truth to them than many would think. It was a common practice, in medieval times, for wizards to infuse specially prepared ingredients with their magic to create a tangible creature that would help them with their tasks. Records indicate that while many wizards restrained themselves to summoning small dolls and puppets to assist them in rituals, more reckless or powerful wizards accomplished greater feats. Torvald the Terrible was said to have summoned up a massive golem made of pure rock and given it the gift of his magically-strengthened blood, which allowed the construct to shrug off even the most powerful spells of destruction. Equally impressive was Chiron the Courageous, who, through the aid of Transfiguration and a potent serum, changed an ordinary horse into the white-winged Pegasus of legend, which allowed him to smite his foes from the skies..._

Harry closed the book and set it aside. A familiar, as described by this book, was a truly impressive creature. Having one would make it very difficult for the Death Eaters or their puppet Ministry to subdue or kill him, and it might even prove of use against Voldemort himself. The described rock golem would be able to last at least a few minutes against even the darkest spells, while a Pegasus would keep out of Voldemort's reach and give him more time to formulate attack plans.

Still, this plan had flaws. The book did not mention how to create familiars, being more focused on debunking the myths that had sprung around them than detailing a step-by-step method for constructing them. Even if Harry could somehow summon a familiar, chances were that it still wouldn't solve the problem of how to find and destroy Horcruxes. In fact, a familiar like the rock golem or the Pegasus would make it easier for the Death Eaters and the Ministry to track him on account of being so distinct.

_It would be nice to have one, though..._ he thought, hazily. His head slipped, and fell down onto the book. His conscience soon followed.

* * *

_He finds himself in a place he has never seen before, observing people he has never met. He is not unfamiliar with this situation; the Pensieve and his connection to Voldemort have made sure of that. It is always jarring to be pulled out of one's body, though, and the lack of control always bothers him._

_He is standing in the courtyard of a rather ornate building, Japanese in nature, watching as a life-or-death struggle unfolds before him._

_One of the combatants is a tall, lithely-muscled man who moves like a tiger. Each movement carries a feline grace, and the power of his blows is evident as he pushes his opponent back. His blue bodysuit and similarly-colored hair blend into the darkness as the crimson spear in his hands lashes out, seeking holes that would open for a final blow._

_The other is...a woman. Petite and slim, almost tiny compared to the warrior she battles, she is a very un-soldierly figure. Her blond hair is done neatly up in a bun, and her green eyes are set into an impossibly young face. However, the metal gauntlets and armored plates of her ornate dress are clearly meant for battle, and the elegance of her movements puts the lie to her delicate appearance. She appears to be unarmed, but on closer inspection her hands grip the air like the handle of a sword, and Harry decides her weapon must be invisible._

_The two exchange blows again and again, and then the blue-haired man leaps back. He says something which Harry does not hear, and the woman replies. Whatever she says makes the man smile, and he drops into a low stance, bringing the crimson spear into position to strike. In response, the woman simply brings her weapon up to guard._

_The man charges, stabbing his spear towards the woman's feet. She makes as if to block it, but hesitates. Somehow, the spear reverses mid-flight and seeks out her chest, point lurching forwards._

_There is a splash of blood as the weapon connects, and the woman gasps. The spear is protruding from her back, whetted with crimson. The man frowns and pulls his weapon free. His opponent drops to her knees and gasps something out, to which the man's frown deepens. He shrugs, his lips moving, and then leaps over a nearby wall, disappearing from sight. The woman moves as if to pursue, then stops, clutching her chest._

_Harry notices a third figure, a boy dressed in a blood-stained T-shirt and ripped jeans. His hair is as red as Ron's, and gold eyes stare out in shock at the injured woman. He has not moved since the fight begun, and only now takes a step forward, towards the crouching girl._

_The girl stands up, with no trace of injury, and Harry frowns. She most definitely suffered a wound from the spear, maybe even a fatal one, and yet she is fine. Magic has to be involved, for her to recover so quickly. He didn't know of a spell that could do that, but there probably was one. The girl didn't show signs of being a wizard; she didn't even carry a wand, but magic wasn't limited to wand-wizardry, according to Hermione._

_The boy takes another hesitant step towards the girl, then shrinks back in fear. Understandable, Harry thinks. The girl and the man she fought are most definitely not average humans._

_He speaks to her. The words are lost to Harry, but it's clear he's asking her what she is. The woman cocks her head, puzzled, and responds. Somehow, Harry is sure she's telling him he already knows. Her answer seems to confuse the boy even more, and he looks puzzled, asking her another question; no doubt repeating her words. This pattern continues, yet the girl does not seem to get impatient with the redhead, merely answering his questions as they come forth. Unfortunately, the redhead looks more and more confused as time passes; his face blushes furiously, and Harry feels a smile curve his lips._

_Then, as if a previously-disconnected audio wire has been hooked up, sound bursts into the scene, just in time for Harry to hear the redhead say, "That's wrong. My name isn't Master."_

_The girl cocks her head, her lips curving into a gentle smile, and says, "Then I shall call you Shirou. Yes, I like the sound of that better." The boy's face turns even more crimson._

_Harry laughs, confident that neither of them can hear him. The boy reminds him of Ginny, not so much because of a physical resemblance than because of the reticence and awkwardness in his manner, so similar to how a younger Ginny acted around him, back in second year._

_He doesn't blame Shirou for it. The girl he's talking to is beautiful, in every sense of the word, but also gentle and elegant. Hearing those words from such a person would make anyone blush; Harry knows that's how he reacted to Cho Chang whenever they met. Granted, Cho wasn't nearly as pretty as this girl, but..._

_The boy says something, but cuts himself off and flinches, staring at his left as if it burns. A red tattoo is emblazoned there, glowing crimson. It appears to be a stylized version of a sword, though the design is vague enough that any interpretation appears possible. Shirou mutters something, presumably along the lines of "What the hell is this?" and the girl replies._

"_That is called a Command Spell, Shirou. It is the three claims on a Servant's obedience, and the life of a Master. Please do not use it thoughtlessly." Her face is stern again, with no trace of the gentle warmth previously present._

_Shirou starts to ask something, but the scene is abruptly silent again, and Harry wonders if whatever is transmitting this vision is in good condition; it's acting like a half-broken television set._

_The girl's posture stiffens, as if something is wrong. She turns and says something to Shirou, focusing her attention on the wall where the blue-haired man disappeared. Shirou responds with a fervent denial, shaking his head. The girl takes this in stride, staring intently at the wall. She replies again, and this time Shirou seems taken aback, mouth open in surprise._

_Harry shakes his head. There was a point where surprises ceased to matter and you took them in stride. By now, Shirou should have reached that point. Apparently not._

_Then the girl does something worthy of surprise: she leaps forward lightly and bounds over the wall, disappearing behind it. Shirou stands there, mouth open, before apparently realizing what just happened and rushing to the gate._

_Harry moves to follow, but the scene begins to darken before his eyes. The ornate building and its courtyard fade away, and dimly he realizes he is waking up..._

* * *

The instant he returned to the waking world, Harry knew something was wrong.

Light filtered through even the closed flaps of the tent, signaling the start of a new day, possibly even noon. He didn't know how long he'd slept, but it felt like quite a while. That didn't change his perceptions.

The forest he was currently situated in was one of life. At any given time of day there would always be plants rustling, birds chirping, foxes barking. Right now, there was none of that; only deathly quiet.

He fumbled quickly for his wand, sighing with relief when his hand touched the worn wooden handle. Standing up, he adjusted his glasses and stepped carefully towards the tent entrance.

"You sure he's here? I don't see anything."

"He's in the _area, _you bloody idiot. You saw the map too."

Harry tensed, fingers tightening on his wand. If they somehow managed to bypass the defensive spells, he'd try to Stun them and hope he could get away before they recovered. Judging by the voices, there were at least two of them; maybe even more.

"He's probably got up some defensive spells; there's no way to pinpoint him then." With a chill, Harry recognized the voice as belonging to Augustus Rookwood. The Death Eater sounded bored, even as he muttered something under his breath. "_Flagro."_

Harry recognized the word as a spell, but didn't understand what was happening until the unmistakable crackle of burning grass reached his ears. He looked around; even through the tent tongues of orange fire were still visible.

"There." Rookwood sounded satisfied. "He'll have to make a run for it if he's here. Hear that, Potter?" He raised his voice, an audible sneer present in his words. "Come on out, boy! You've got nowhere to hide!"

Smoke was beginning to waft into the tent, and Harry's eyes burned. He glanced around desperately, clenching his wand. The fire would soon begin to eat away at the tent, and he would have to make a run for it anyway.

He made his decision. The tent flap rustled as he pushed it open and walked out into the open air. Flames licked the area around him, and not ten feet away stood Rookwood and his partner, a short, nervously-twitching man with yellowed teeth and straggly blonde hair. They made no sign of recognition even though he was directly in their sight line, so the spells must still be working. Harry dimly remembered Hermione lecturing him on magic and its limitations ("Magic's mostly to provide wizards and witches with convenient ways to accomplish tasks; Incendio's just a regular blast of fire and Aguamenti is plain water. Unless the spell specifies it, magic-summoned fire will behave just like regular fire, so don't expect it to neutralize charms just because it's there. Have you two ever _read _the textbooks?"), so the fire wouldn't damage the charms...just him. There was no help for it.

He took one step forward, just within the boundaries of the charms and pointed his wand at Rookwood.

"_Stupefy."_

The bolt of red light flashed from his wand and arrowed outwards, striking the Death Eater in the stomach. He toppled to the ground, and as his partner switched around in alarm, Harry put another Stunning Spell into the man's chest.

Before the man's body had hit the ground, he had already turned and with a shout of "_Aguamenti!" _had sprayed water over the flames threatening to burn his tent. As they withered and died, a gesture of his wand caused the tent to quickly compress into a cloth square slightly larger than his hand. He picked it up and threw it into a jacket pocket.

Then, Harry started to run.

A green streak caught Harry's eye, and in desperation he twisted aside, barely avoiding the spell. He turned and pointed his wand back, shouting "_Stupefy!"_ Red light blasted from his wand, flying off, and he heard a grunt and the thump of a falling body.

Another spell, this time a Stunner, nearly struck his arm, and he cursed as he missed a step, almost tripping. He now regretted not killing Rookwood and his partner when he had the chance, but there was nothing to be done about that.

Branches slapped at his face as he rushed heedlessly forward, legs pumping and arms waving. As far as he could tell, there were ten men pursuing him. Aside from Rookwood, he hadn't recognized any of them, though some were wearing the robes of Aurorers. That didn't change a thing.

He was getting tired; he'd already been running for about half an hour and yet for some reason they were still unable to catch him.

"Get back here, Potter!" Rookwood's harsh voice cut through the air. "We'll make it quick if you give up now!"

Liar, Harry thought, but saved his breath, pushing past another branch.

"Where are you trying to go, eh? There's nothing here!"

He'd worry about that later, after he'd lost them. Harry turned and shouted, "_Stupefy!"_ Once again his wand spat red light, and once again in the lucky streak that had been his since he was born, another Death Eater cried out and abruptly ended his pursuit.

Great. Now there were only nine of them. Nine well-trained, ruthless, and methodically violent wizards who were bent on capturing him and dragging him before the thing who'd tried to kill him seven times, by now.

Suddenly, abruptly, the forest ended, and Harry almost stopped before he realized that action would greatly shorten his life-span. Still, as he resumed his dead-on sprint, he couldn't help but marvel at the sight that had appeared before him.

The ruins of what obviously had been a temple sat serenely, apparently unaware and uncaring that it had displaced a great deal of vegetation. Though trees grew around and about, there was an almost perfect circle of empty area that surrounded the temple, most likely due to magic. The temple itself was built with marble pillars and columns, though fallen and dusty with age, that set it out as a Roman-style building, even though it was very unlikely the Romans had gotten this far.

All of this went through Harry's head as he ducked behind a fallen pillar, wand at the ready. With cover, he might be able to whittle down his attackers, but Stunning them would only do so much, and if the fight dragged on long enough they might recover, and he'd be back to running again.

_Kill them._

All of a sudden it seemed so easy to. He'd already hit them with Stunning Spells; the Killing Curse behaved much the same way, and he was confident enough in his aim. Even if he only took down one, that would be one less than before and it would make the others wary, perhaps enough to let him escape.

And yet...there was something about this impulse that made him uneasy. Perhaps it was simply that he'd never thought about it until now. More likely it was because the tiny voice in the back of his head telling him to do this sounded uncomfortably like Voldemort's hissing, serpentine tone.

Harry shook his head. He would not kill them, not yet. Not until he had figured out how to play this. This might cost him his life, but then again, maybe not, and he might not be pleased with how this ended if he did use the Killing Curse.

Leaves rustled, and Harry instinctively moved to the side as a red bolt flashed past. They weren't using Killing Curses; Voldemort must still want him alive.

"Take it like a man, Potter!" The high, cracking voice wasn't familiar to Harry, but the words were. "You're not six years old, are you? Come on, then! If you're the 'Chosen One', why don't you come out and fight us?"

"Yeah, wonder why?" Harry muttered to himself sarcastically. He could hear them circling around him, trying to pinpoint his position as they slowly tightened their noose.

He was running out of options.

Suddenly, something jarred his teeth. An audible hum thrummed through his body, making his hair stand up on end. His pulse throbbed as the strange energy washed into his blood. He winced instinctively, eyes closing for a split second.

The sensation felt strange; even as his blood boiled and his stomach churned, Harry also felt reinvigorated. It was as if the energy was replenishing his diminished physical reserves even as it made him extremely uncomfortable.

Another red jet streaked past, and Harry winced. Instinctively, he turned and shouted, "_Stupefy!" _Red power coalesced from his wand and blasted away in the general direction of the first shot.

The wizard cast about for options, then spotted the cavernous opening of the temple yawning just a few yards away, more inviting than ominous now. Immediately, reasons for not seeking solace there shot through his head; it was unsecured and unknown to him, which meant enemies might be lurking within and that escape from such enemies would be hampered by his lack of knowledge of the layout.

And yet, the strange fire in his blood demanded that he go in there. In fact, one foot was already sliding forward, heedless of his hesitation. Harry risked another look back into the foliage, then hissed with vexation and followed his instincts.

"I'm screwed." He lamented, even as he disappeared into the temple's opening.

* * *

The temple was actually underground, Harry realized, as the floor turned into stairs that sloped steadily downwards. Darkness washed over him, and he almost tripped.

"_Lumos." _He muttered. Blue-white light shone gently from the tip of his wand. The beam revealed marble stairs, not surprisingly, and he kept moving, stepping cautiously down. When the stairs ended, he leaped off and turned around, expecting to see Death Eaters hurrying down after him. He didn't, but that did nothing to ease his mind. The temple might have other entrances, in which case he had to hurry.

The dusty marble confines of the temple trapped and magnified the sounds of his shoes thudding against the floor. He winced; the noise was far too loud. He pointed his wand at his shoes.

"_Diminuendo." _Harry stomped one foot on the floor, which made no sound. A smile curved his mouth up; listening to Hermione had its selling points then. The smile disappeared.

The marble corridor opened up into a larger chamber, which the light from his wand couldn't fully illuminate. He frowned.

"_Lumos Amplios."_

Blue-white light flashed, forcing him to blink, and when he opened his eyes again the tiny beam at his wandtip had become a glowing orb the size of his fist, illuminating the room quite handily.

As if in response, the ground glowed as well, dark red light flaring up to clash with the blue colors of Harry's wand. Slowly, the light began to curve around him until it had inscribed a complete circle with him in the center.

Runes, long and intricate, burned into existence within the circle. They flickered and changed, crossing the spectrum and back, until a pause stopped the whirling kaleidoscope of colors. Then, as if a mind had been made up, the runes turned a bright, emerald green: matching the light of the Killing Curse...or Harry's own eyes.

"Huh..." Harry muttered, transfixed. He stepped forward, peering down at the glowing symbols. Slowly, a figure took form, shimmering blue and gold above the runic flame. As the figure solidified, he glimpsed a long, flowing blue dress and blonde hair hanging to each side of the figure's head.

"Ha! There he is!" Footsteps clattered into the chamber, and Harry spun in a panic, wand at the ready. The various lights present in the chamber illuminated the heavy, thick-set face of Rookwood and the various visages of his companions.

"Got him!" one Death Eater howled victoriously, and a blast of red light shot out from his wand. Time seemed to slow; Harry threw himself to the side, but even as his body was beginning to move, the bolt took him in the chest and with a vicious jolt he was thrown to the floor.

_Damnit..._

* * *

"Good work, Reames." Rookwood grunted, moving forward. "Right, let's grab him and get his carcass out of this bloody place."

Reames moved forward to grab Harry's prone body, but stopped as an armored foot clashed against the floor. The figure moved swiftly, stepping between the Death Eater and his target. One gauntleted hand thrust out to bar the man's way.

"Hold." Emerald eyes the same color as that of the prone boy's stared out mercilessly from a porcelain face, halting Reames in his tracks. The other Death Eaters tensed, wands coming up in preparation for a fight.

Rookwood uttered an oath and raised his wand. In return the woman held out her other hand. Wind began to blow inside the confines of the chamber, and the figure pointed that gauntleted hand at Rookwood's chest.

"You will tell me what is occurring here." She demanded. "Why was I summoned to this place, and who summoned me?"

Rookwood met her stare unflinchingly. "Ministry of Magic!" He barked. "This boy's a wanted murderer, so back off if you know what's good for you!"

The woman shook her head, long blonde bangs swinging with the motion. "I refuse. Which of you summoned me? I will make your death swift if you confess now." Her gaze bored into his eyes, steady and solid.

The Death Eater felt a smirk curl his lips. What luck! He could tell her, with absolute truth, that Potter had summoned her, watch her kill the boy, and bring the body to the Dark Lord.

"He did." He growled triumphantly, gesturing at Harry's prone body. "Bleeder's a vicious criminal with no respect for the law."

The woman arched a delicate eyebrow, and Rookwood noticed that on top of her dress, she was wearing a breastplate engraved with blue markings. Her skirt was likewise armored with thick plates of metal that kept the flowing fabric down below her knees. Her clothing wasn't the only thing he noticed; she stood straight-backed and proud, feet planted firmly on the marble floor of the temple. The wind her right palm was generating began to blow a little more fiercely, causing her dress to flap in the strengthening breeze. She turned to look at the silent boy – rumpled and shabby, without a weapon or indeed anything remotely capable of manipulating magic at hand – and the band of vicious, unscrupulous men brandishing wooden sticks apparently capable of numerous spells and curses.

"I do not believe you."

Rookwood's smirk fell. It looked as if he was going to have to work for his glory, instead of simply collecting the body. Still, the woman was wearing _metal armor_. How hard could she be to kill?

"I don't need you to." He snapped. _"Avada Kevadra!"_

The Killing Curse blasted forth from his wand, green light burning through the air. The other Death Eaters, relieved that something was actually happening now, joined in, firing more Killing Curses at the irritating Muggle standing in their way. One had the presence of mind to direct his spell at Potter's unconscious body, hoping to somehow claim the credit for the troublesome boy's death.

The armored woman's reaction was not what Rookwood expected. She did not attempt to dodge any of the spells, but deliberately stepped into the path of the curse meant for Potter. Green light collided with polished metal plate and accomplished absolutely nothing, dissipating instantaneously. The remaining spells that managed to hit her suffered the same fate.

"You have struck the first blow, blackhearts. I shall strike the last." With that chilling declaration, the armored woman suddenly leapt forward, skirts billowing out behind. She crossed the distance in a single bound and landed with the poise of a cat, lashing out with the wind in her right hand. It took Reames in the throat and opened up a long gash that spewed blood. As he collapsed, frantically clawing at the wound, his killer turned, the whispering of her wind-weapon rising to the shout of a full gale. One armored foot kicked a Death Eater's legs out from underneath him and slammed down into his skull during his fall, actually cracking the bone open and letting loose a torrent of blood and cranial fluids. Another Death Eater died before the messy mixture could splatter the marble floor, slashed open by a flick of an armored wrist. The remaining wizards scattered, wands flashing and desperate incantations bursting from lips. Flashes of every light imaginable alternated with cracks and whines, but no matter what spells were tried, the woman weathered them without flinching. One wizard tried the Imperius Curse, but she simply shook her head as if a fly was buzzing by her ear and struck the man's head from his shoulder.

"Keep on her!" Rookwood ordered, changing tactics. With a flick of his wand, a massive snake emerged from its tip, launching itself at the blonde warrior. He followed it with a stream of conjured boulders, making each rock heavier and larger than the last, hurling them all towards the troublesome woman.

She daintily side-stepped the flying snake, twisting so that her wind – sword? - split the snake into two writhing halves. Without missing a beat she pivoted, swinging her blade of wind out in a horizontal sweep that split the first boulder in much the same way. Another flurry of blows demolished each successive boulder until chunks of grave littered the bloodstained floor.

Rookwood paused for a split-second, attempting to regain his strength, and in that second the warrior leapt at him and past him. He tried to turn, to follow her path, but felt a stinging pain in his midsection, and looked down to see blood flowing out from a rent in his robes. Not understanding, he clutched at the wound, much as Reames had done, trying to close it, to somehow fix it.

With a disgustingly liquid slurping noise, the wound opened wider, and long ropes of gray matter began to spill from the wound. The Death Eater had one moment of horrified comprehension before his body slumped to its knees.

The last thing he saw before darkness shrouded his eyes was the last of the Death Eaters screaming in agony as an invisible blade slashed through an area just below his waist, then flicked upward to impale him through the chin.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry opened his eyes.

"So, you are awake."

Hard metal fingers grabbed him by the shirtfront and hauled him to his feet, rough but not unnecessarily so. He tried to focus, adjusting his glasses with one trembling hand, just in time to see eyes of shocking green, so like his mother's, staring into his own.

"You appear to be the only survivor." Her voice was like the brassy notes of a bugle, proud and defiant without regret. "I will ask you the question those knaves failed to answer: who summoned me?"

At the last words, there was a slight crack in the regal tones, and Harry thought he heard a slight tinge of sadness. This only made him feel worse. He had not been unconscious for the whole thing; not even for most of it, he had heard the accusation and Rookwood's clumsy attempt to blame it on him. The worst thing was that this time the Death Eater hadn't been lying.

Harry was naturally an honest person. Though he had learned to lie, and proficiently at that, he was never truly comfortable with that. His first impulse to tell the truth now, though, was dampened by the knowledge that he would almost certainly die if he did.

The metal gauntlet shook him almost gently, to get his attention. He looked back up into the woman's face, absently noted she was beautiful, then cursed himself silently for having a libido at such an inappropriate time.

_You have a girlfriend, Potter! Well, not really, but get yourself together! There's no time to be ogling a murderer, especially when she's about to kill you!_

"Do you have an answer for me?" Green eyes hardened, and in that moment he was decided. He could not lie to her, not to those eyes that looked like they were peering through his soul.

"Yes. I did." He bowed his head. "You're going to kill me, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question.

She blinked at him once, obviously surprised. "You are honest...I did not expect such integrity, no matter your answer." There was a new respect in those emerald orbs, but she sighed and lifted her right hand. "I do not take joy in this, but I did say I would kill he who summoned me. A knight cannot go back on her word." The deadly wind began to blow once more, and Harry's mouth suddenly emptied of all moisture.

He was going to die. Everything Voldemort desired was going to be accomplished by an extremely short girl acting like some kind of medieval knight. Britain would be plunged into war and eventually defeat, and Muggle-borns would no longer be allowed to exist. The goblins of Gringotts, the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest, even the house-elves of Hogwarts; they would all be slaughtered or forced into slavery.

But worse than that, the people close to him would die. Neville, Luna, Fred and George, Mr. and Mrs. Weaseley, Remus and Tonks, Hermione, Ron...

_Ginny..._

"Please." The word slipped from between his lips unbidden. The knight paused, her hand about to strike down.

"I have something to do. I can't die yet. If you want, you can kill me later. But please, not now." The words pour out of him, carrying all of his urgency. "I can't die yet, because there's something only I can do. So many people are going to die if I don't do it!"

She looks at him, and for one moment her eyes flash with pain, but they are cool and reserved again in a moment. He cringed, prepared to accept the death blow but hoping against hope that she would decide to be lenient.

"..Are you able to cook?"

The question caught him off guard. He blinked twice. "What?"

"I said," she repeated with a hint of exasperation in her voice, "can you cook? If you can, I will allow you to make your case over dinner."

"What if I can't?" Once again, his mouth spat out words without the consent of his brain.

"I will kill you, of course." The woman shrugged, as if murder was no big deal. "You have summoned me, and I will have you take responsibility for your action as long as you are able to."

What could he say to that?

* * *

He had set up the tent in the underground chamber and managed to get a small fire going, negating the smoke with a brief mutter of _"Vortex,"_Fortunately, his charm had kept the deer carcass from rotting, and so their dinner was venison.

Well...more like _her _dinner was venison. Harry had held the carcass over the fire with a Levitation Charm – he hadn't particularly wanted to, but there was nothing else to use and he didn't know how to create something that would – and the woman had walked over, knelt down, and stared unblinkingly at the dead animal for the entire time the fire had taken to roast it.

"Alright, I think it's done." With a flick of his wand Harry deposited the now pleasantly-browned carcass onto a linen cloth and severed it into three neat sections. He rummaged around for more plates and utensils. "Just a moment, and we can-"

There was a sound like a chainsaw tearing through a rather meaty cow, and Harry yelped, flinging himself to the side as he prepared to battle any Death Eaters who had somehow snuck up on him.

Instead, he saw his would-be killer, a massive piece of deer flank in her hands, and grease all over her face, staring at him bemusedly. The meat in her hands looked as if it had been attacked by a voraciously hungry lion.

"I apologize for disturbing you." She said formally. "I was simply consuming my meal to keep up my strength."

Her abrupt change in manner startled him. First she was going on about killing him, and now she was apologizing for eating messily? Harry shook his head. Maybe they had strict manner codes where she came from.

She saw his look and misinterpreted it. "It is good, and there is no taint of poison or decay. You may eat."

"Wait, what?" The young wizard blurted out. "Poison?"

She nodded with complete seriousness. "At a feast, I once ate a large hog, which my sister had prepared especially for me, knowing my appetite. I then experienced severe vomiting and feverishness, and was bedridden for a week. The magus attending me claimed it was poison, and I did recall the hog having a rather acrid taste, but such was not atypical of the meals my servants cooked..." she trailed off, frowning at the ground.

"Uh...okay..." Harry managed, rubbing his head. He didn't know what to say, and settled for a safer remark. "But I'm sure you must have had better meals, right? You still have an appetite." Indeed, the rest of the flank had gone the way of the first half, and she was now munching contentedly on a leg.

"Yes." Her lips curved upwards. "My previous Master was a far superior cook. I was never hungry or unsatisfied with his food." She trailed off again, but this time she wore a wistful smile, heavy with a longing that somehow seemed far too raw for such a lovely face.

Harry bit into his own piece of venison, noting the less-than-exemplary taste.

"Begin your tale." It was an order, delivered in an easy manner by one accustomed to issuing such commands. Harry shrugged and went along.

"I have to kill a man." Harry began. "He's split his soul into six pieces, placed them into magical objects, and hidden them away to be protected by incredibly powerful defenses. Unless they're destroyed, he can't be killed, and that would be hard enough anyway, since he's the most powerful wizard alive right now."

"Why are you attempting to kill this man?" The woman – no, actually, she was more like a girl – questioned. "Are you seeking to eliminate a rival, or gain power?" Her eyes hardened.

"No, nothing like that." He said quickly. "He's already killed hundreds of people and had his followers kill even more. I'm the only one who can stop him because of a prophecy, and if I die he'll have his way with Britain, and probably the rest of the world, since he can't die."

"Britain?" The girl suddenly looked a lot more intent. "You say we are in Britain?"

"Yes." He nodded, and she assumed a more thoughtful expression.

"Continue your story." Harry nodded again.

"Like I said, this guy can't be killed unless the pieces of his soul are destroyed first. I've already gotten rid of one, and my teacher destroyed another. I have one here," He felt for the locket under his shirt and pulled it out, dangling it before him in his fist. "but I don't have any way to destroy it, or the others, so right now I'm just kind of muddling along-"

His sentence was interrupted as the girl took the amulet from his hand, eyes narrowing as it came free. "I can feel it; this is potent dark magic. It is unfamiliar to me, but I can feel its power." With a flick, she tossed the necklace onto the stone marble floor, as if she was discarding something filthy. "Stand back."

Golden light radiated softly from her hand, and a sword appeared, almost three feet long and nearly a foot wide. Gold, silver, and blue decorated the weapon, and intricate runes spidered across the blade itself. Harry's eyes widened.

The girl twirled the blade so that she held it down, perpendicular to the floor, and with a grunt slammed the ancient sword straight through the locket. Harry flinched, expecting an explosion, or some other form of magical backlash.

Somehow, the locket held, and even though the full weight of the mighty blade pinned it to the floor, it began to twitch. The knight grimaced and pushed down on her sword, but the locket resisted, and despite the pressure placed on its seemingly fragile frame, began to open.

"H-how is this possible?" she grunted, straining to keep the locket pinned. "What sorcery is this?"

Vapor poured forth from the necklace, a stream of gray smoke that swirled around the locket and the blonde knight focused on its destruction. It began to spin, faster and faster until the whirlwind of darkness blocked Saber and her weapon from view.

Automatically, Harry acted. His wand whipped out and he yelled, _"Ventas!"_

Gray smoke pulsed and roiled for a brief second, but then quickly settled back, continuing to flow around the embattled knight. Then, as quickly as it had come forth, the smoke dissipated, flowing together in a point just before the armored girl to form a figure of a man.

Like the Riddle in the diary, the figure was not one of solid flesh, but instead memory and dream made real in a transient, almost incorporeal fashion. He was tall, taller than even Ron, and towered over the petite girl struggling with her sword. He was garbed in black plate armor, with a dark, rugged face that could have been considered handsome once, before the years and pains of living had worn him down.

A sad smile curved the edges of the ghost's mouth.

_"Greetings, my liege."_

The massive blade clanged against the marble as it fell from slackened fingers. Its owner let out a slight gasp.

_"You still remember me, I see." _The smile remained, but bitterness had seeped into it. _"I did not think you would forget one you so badly wronged." _The specter took one step forward.

_"A king without emotions cannot rule a land of humans who are subject to those very emotions. You could never understand us, _Arthur." Hatred twisted the ghost's previously docile voice. _"You sacrificed all of your emotions to lead your kingdom, and lost it all to four traitors." _Its voice continued to rise.

_"We wasted so much for you! For something that fell more quickly than it rose! Guinevere, my love, and I sealed away our passion so that _you _could pursue an impossible dream! We denied ourselves and each other until we could do it no more, and then we rose against you!" _Spite crinkled the inhuman features. _"_You_ sentenced her to death! _You_ forced me to slay my friends to save her! And then _you _had the temerity to forgive _me_?"_

For one long moment, the girl in armor did not speak. Then she took a deep breath and picked up her sword.

"Yes. I did. The king cannot allow sedition, even in his most trusted allies. It was not an easy decision. For the longest time, I shouldered the guilt for all of our actions, believing that only I had been in the wrong."

This time, she was the one who stepped forward, raising the beautiful blade.

"But I misunderstood. It was my mistake, but also his and Guinevere's. We were all complicit, and thus equally share the guilt. No one person carries more of it than any other. I could not give her the love she needed, and they could no longer bear to be apart. My biggest mistake, it seems, was to forgive him. I should have known that such a knight as Lancelot would never forgive himself so easily. With such good intentions, I destroyed him. But I have come to terms with that. We cannot undo our mistakes, only seek to redeem ourselves with the opportunities the future holds."

She hefted her massive blade, and before the specter could blink she swept the weapon through the body of smoke. As it dissipated, the sword slashed downwards, staking the locket to the ground.

"Leave, boy. You will not fare well if you stay here." The girl murmured. Her sword began to glow, golden light emanating from the blade. "Retrieve your possessions. I do not believe they will survive my sword."

Quickly, responding robotically to her command, Harry shoved everything rather haphazardly into the tent and activated its folding enchantment, quickly compressing the spacious shelter into its more portable form of a canvas scrap. He turned to look at his –rescuer? killer? – one more time, but the light was now an all-consuming radiance that hid her form from view.

He made for the steps.

* * *

Harry had barely stumbled out of the temple's opening before a miniature sun appeared to shine from the depths of the chamber, turning deepest shadow into light so bright that the wizard had to shield his eyes.

"Oi!" he shouted as the light died down. "Are you all right?"

From the way she'd handled her sword, he'd assumed whatever she was going to do wouldn't affect her, but that power was way beyond what he'd expected. Perhaps it had surprised her, too. What if the locket had fooled her? Panic gripped him and he clutched his wand more tightly.

He had a brief moment to wonder why exactly he was worrying so much about someone who obviously had no qualms about killing him, concluded it was something to do with the selflessness Dumbledore had always insisted was a part of his character, and spared a few mental curses at the world for making him like this.

Perhaps he should try to run now, get away from the death that seemed very likely if he continued in her company. Yes, that would be a great idea, except that she had already attempted to destroy one Horcrux, and that meant there was a good chance of her agreeing to let him live.

He sighed, but made no move to leave. He would wait for her. As fate would have it, though, he was not to be waiting very long. From out of the newly-returned shadows stepped forth the graceful form of the blonde knight, carrying the massive sword easily in one hand.

"There is no need to yell..." she paused. "I do not know your name."

"Am I going to be around long enough for you to need it?" Harry retorted. The knight's cold face...thawed, and what might have been construed as a smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

"If you do not give it to me, there is no reason to keep you around. Since I cannot address you, I will kill you."

"...I hope you're not serious." Harry deadpanned, feeling his spirits lift despite the technical peril to his life. After all, if she was going to kill him, why would she ask his name?

"My name's Harry Potter."

The mask of calm was back in place. She nodded once, the motion sharp and crisp.

"I am Servant Saber."

"Saber?" Harry questioned. "Wait...Didn't that guy call you Arthur?" Suddenly, the full import of the dialogue hit him. "Lancelot...Guinevere..." he gaped, pointing a finger at the girl, who sighed once, then nodded.

"I had hoped to keep my identity a secret, but I suppose there is no help for it. Yes. I am Arturia Pendragon, who you know better as King Arthur Pendragon of Britain. I was born a woman and took the throne to keep the kingdom from embroiling itself in civil war due to my father's inability to produce a male heir."

Harry considered this new information. King Arthur was just as famous among wizards as Muggles, but most wizards looked down upon him for not being able to perform magic and relying heavily on his advisor Merlin to help him run the kingdom and protect it against both mortal and magical enemies. Still, Harry didn't share the common prejudice against anything non-magical, which didn't matter as this Arthur was perfectly capable of utilizing some kind of powerful blast to obliterate one of the most potent objects of dark magic known to wizardkind. Next to that, the revelation of him as a woman was somewhat less important.

"I...see." Harry managed. "Uh...I'm sorry for summoning you, Your Majesty." It bore repeating, he thought.

The woman calling herself Saber fell silent, regarding him with an unwavering stare. He met it as best he could, though at times he had to remember to blink. Her eyes were unreadable, but incredibly mesmerizing, and he felt like he could stare at them all day without noticing the passage of time. Then, the moment broke and Saber let out a soft sigh.

"I suppose there is no helping it. If you did not summon me intentionally, and indeed if no one is attempting to claim me as their Servant, I must be here for a reason. Most likely that reason is the defeat of this man you say you must kill."

"Er, probably." Harry scratched his head. He wouldn't have jumped to such a conclusion so quickly, but different people thought differently, didn't they? Certainly an abandoned teenage wizard with no purpose and no clue would not think the same way as a proud, dignified female knight who threw around the promise of death like it was no big deal.

"I could sense the magic in that amulet." Saber's face contorted with a grimace. "It was a foul magic attempting to infringe on my mind. Whoever created that abomination is a monster."

"Oh, trust me." Harry snorted. "he is. Never met a bigger bastard." Except for maybe his greatest opponent, but at least Dumbledore didn't go around killing Muggles for the sick fun of it.

"You say you were tasked to destroy these objects?" Saber regarded him skeptically. "What was your plan for disposing of them?"

"I didn't have one." He admitted. "I was just going to poke around the likely places and see if I could find them. As for getting rid of them, I don't have the slightest clue." Well, now he did. They could apparently be destroyed by bolts of light from magical swords.

Saber's face wrinkled with irritation. "Do you even know where to find these objects?"

"Nope." He grunted. "I wasn't given any clues to where they were or any weapons to get rid of them once if I happened to find one. That's why my friends left; they realized I didn't have any idea what I'm doing."

Her reaction was not what he expected. Instead of berating him for being stupid enough to venture on such a dangerous quest without a plan, she focused on a different point.

"You had comrades?" He shrugged.

"Well, yeah. I didn't want them to come at first, but they insisted. Now they're gone, and I really wish they were here." The laugh that came from his mouth was more than a little bitter, he noticed. "Funny how things change."

"Indeed." Saber nodded, surprising him. He had not expected her to respond. "Though there is precious little amusing about fate's whims." Her eyes narrowed. "Your comrades deserted you?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yes, but like I said, they expected me to have a plan, so I can't really fault them for leaving." Yes he could, actually, but that was for more personal reasons.

Saber brushed the argument away with a shake of her head. "Abandoning a friend is never justifiable by reason. If they choose to come with you, then they choose to see the matter through to the end." The mask of composure slid into place, her eyes harsh and unforgiving. "I cannot abide broken vows."

"Somehow, I don't think they saw it that way." The murmur escaped his lips without his conscious acknowledgement. "Friendship is a two-way street, isn't it? So is leadership. If they choose to follow me and put their lives at risk for my goal, shouldn't I owe it to them to come up with a plan, to make sure that they suffer as little as possible?"

"That is the ideal situation." The knight replied. "But that is less of an obligation and more of an expectation. The follower is entitled to that right, but does not always receive it. Even when he does not, he must still follow the one he has pledged his loyalty to, for what would he be if he were to abandon his word and honor? Loyalty is not easily given, and so is sacred. That is why traitors are so scorned, and why no tears are shed at their deaths."

The impassioned speech brought a grim smile to Harry's lips. If the Ministry had felt that way, there would not be so many Death Eaters ready to flock to Voldemort's side and start another war.

"I wish our government thought more like you." He chuckled. Surprisingly, Saber's green eyes misted over and she dropped her gaze.

"Perhaps it is better that they do not." She whispered, but did not elaborate. Harry stared at her, growing increasingly uneasy as the sudden bout of melancholy seemed to stretch on. He wanted to grab her attention and ask her if she was still going to kill him, but the idea of disturbing her made him feel like a jerk, not to mention also having the possible side-effects of irritating her to the point where she decided his head was better on the ground than on his neck.

As he was struggling to decide on a course of action, she looked back up, with no hint of the previous indecision.

"If you are in such a sorry position, and on such an important task, how can I refuse you my help? I would not be a knight if I turned my back on this blackguard you must slay." She shrugged. "It would be a waste to see you die so hopelessly when I have decided to spare you."

"Why thank you." Harry muttered mutinously, despite himself. "Your faith in me is greatly appreciated."

Saber did that might-be-a-smile expression again. "Your appreciation is accepted."

Harry began to absorb the implications of that statement. Not only was she sparing him, she was actively agreeing to accompany him in his quest to destroy the Horcruxes. Of course, he would need to do some more thinking on where to find them, but the necklace was gone, and he now had the means to destroy them. This would make the quest possible, instead of merely suicidal.

Then suddenly, he remembered Saber declaring her intent to kill the person who had summoned her. Being slain by her was no longer an issue; instead he wondered why she had been so angry.

"Saber, why were you threatening to kill me in the first place?" he blurted out.

"Because you summoned me, of course." She replied, looking nonplussed.

"I know that." He said patiently. "I meant why were you so angry about being summoned?"

"Your summoning has ripped me away from my loved ones and my home." She met his gaze squarely. "That is a very good reason to get angry."

Harry lowered his eyes, unable to meet her steady stare. "I'm sorry." He managed. "I didn't realize."

He had not. At first he had been terrified of being killed before he could fulfill the prophecy, and then elated at actually being given a way to destroy Horcruxes, that he had not considered that his god-sent companion had probably been ripped away from her life, her family, and her home. He had only seen her as a tool, as something to be used to further his own goals.

_The Hat was right. Maybe I should have been Sorted into Slytherin._

Saber shook her head brusquely, bringing his gaze back to meet hers. "It is no matter. The sooner we can finish your business, the sooner the world will see fit to return me to my home."

Harry did not think he would rely so much on the world's favor to fix something it had so obviously intended in the first place, but he held his tongue. Nothing good could come of challenging her convictions.

"Enough of this small talk." Saber held out one gauntlet, capturing Harry's eyes with her own. "We must formalize our alliance." The metal glove disappeared, revealing a surprisingly slim and delicate hand.

"Upon your summons I have come forth. You have called me forth, and so I pledge my sword to your cause. I will share your burdens in joy and in grief. I will shield you from harm and strike down your foes. On my honor, I swear this oath."

"You don't need to swear an oath to me, Saber." Harry stated uncomfortably. "Besides, I'm not your Master, right?"

"No, you are not my Master." She agreed. "That is why you will also swear an oath."

Actually, that made Harry feel a bit better. That gave the alliance more of a partnership feel to it, rather than one person having the dominant role. Of course, Saber did actually have more weight, but there was no need to say that straight out.

He took her hand. "Um...what kind of oath do you want me to swear?" he asked. Saber shrugged.

"Whatever you feel will bind you."

"Alright." He took a breath, and decided to wing it.

"I swear upon my magic that I will aid and succor you in times of need, and return your help with my own. Should you ever need assistance in any plight, no matter how large or small, you may always call on me. What little I have is yours." He tried to make it sound as formal as possible, but did not feel any particular success.

Her eyes widened slightly, but he cut her off. "You're helping me more than you can imagine, Saber. I'm not a freeloader; I don't let favors go unreturned. If we survive...you can call on me for any help, though I'm not sure if you'd need any." He managed a rueful smile. "Still, you said to swear something that would bind me, so that's it. We're partners now."

At that moment, green fire flared up around Harry's arm, the same fire that had occurred in the chamber. Emerald flame blazed brightly, and suddenly searing pain burned its way into his left hand. He cried out, but as soon as it had appeared, the pain vanished, though his hand continued to throb. The wizard peered down at the afflicted area, searching for signs of injury, and his eyes widened.

Emblazoned boldly, in red, on the back of his hand was a symbol he'd seen before; in Hermione's copy of _Tales of Beedle the Bard_. It was a small circle, enclosing an even smaller triangle, with a single line splitting the triangle in half.

A gasp of surprise told him that Saber had seen it, too. She gripped his hand, watching the green flame vanish as she did so, and examined the limb intently.

"What's that?" Harry managed to ask after a long moment.

Saber did not reply, instead glaring at the back of his hand.

"Saber?"

Then, the blonde knight bowed her head, a rueful smile flickering across her mouth.

"We were wrong, Harry Potter. It seems as if you are my Master after all."

"Wh-what?"

Harry felt as if he had been punched in the chest. Saber looked at him.

"My previous Master had the same reaction. It took him quite a while to accustom himself to the fact. I hope you do not follow in his path. It would be very inconvenient." Harry opened his mouth to ask what in Merlin's beard just happened, but Saber anticipated his question.

"That is a Command Spell, Master. You possess three of them now, each of which can compel a Servant to carry out one of your orders with absolute obedience. They are very powerful tools, so I would ask you use them wisely."

"Don't call me that." Harry groaned. "My name is Harry."

Saber studied him quietly, then nodded. "I have only ever had one Master request me to call him by his name." Her eyes suddenly gleamed with a mixture of joy and regret. "He was by far the best of them. I will expect similar things of you, then...Harry."

"Thanks for raising the bar so high." Harry groused, but smiled. "I'll try my best." He paused, wondering if he was taking the responsibility he now had too lightly. With those lines on his hand, he could order her to do anything and she would not be able to resist.

"Uh...Saber, are you really comfortable with me having this kind of power over you? I could make you do anything?"

"You could," Saber agreed, "but you would eventually run out of spells and I would kill you for taking such liberties." Her face was completely straight, with not a hint of mockery. Harry groaned.

"Please stop doing that. I know you aren't going to kill me now."

"How can you be so sure?" Saber asked. Harry smirked.

"Well, firstly you're a knight, and you've already sworn an oath to help me, not to mention viciously denouncing oathbreakers, so I don't think you're the kind to just chop me up." Saber jerked, looking as if she had just been caught in a lie and making Harry's smirk widen. "Also, you talk so fondly about your previous Master, so I think you're just a big softie at heart." He paused, as if in thought. "No, actually, I know for sure. You know, I actually had a dream about you before I summoned you."

He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about it until now, but relished the chance to tease the girl who was now bound to him. "You were a lot nicer to him than me, actually. Is he the reason you wanted to kill me so badly?"

Adolescent logic and gossip never failed, he mused, watching his would-be murderer's cheeks turn red.

"C-cur!" she blustered. "What did you see?" Harry only smiled and shook his head. What an interesting dynamic, he thought. It was certainly much different from their first interactions, but a better kind of different.

"That's for me to know, and you to find out."

Saber turned her nose. "If your mission is so pressing, perhaps we should get on with it immediately, instead of attempting to damage each other's pride."

Harry laughed. "Sure, though it'd be easier for me than you, with your honor and oaths and fake jerk-assery-"

He let out a grunt as Saber's fist impacted him in the stomach – softly-.

"Britain has no time for your nonsense, Harry." The blonde knight sniffed. "Come. The night is not over." She gestured to the sky, which veiled the world in black shadow. "You should return to the chamber and sleep. I will guard you. I am not human, so I will not need any rest."

"You can say that again." He muttered. She gave him a glance of supreme disdain.

"Hold your tongue and go to bed."

"Yes, ma'am!" He sketched what he thought was a Muggle salute, then turned and ran back into the chamber before she could hit him.

* * *

_He's dreaming again. Once more he sees the master and his servant fighting for their lives._

_The enemy is a man, almost twice Saber's height and three times as broad, massive muscles catching the light of the afternoon sun. His skin is asphalt-black and as impenetrable-looking as steel. Long black hair cascades wildly in a mane down the back of his head, and one black eye shines a furious red. He wears a metal, kilt-like garment that covers his waist, and steel bracers that cover his ankles. A massive rock shaped like a bizarre axe-sword hybrid swings in his fist._

_Saber meets his charge with determination and courage, her sword in its sheath of wind clanging against the axe-sword. She moves with her customary speed and grace, but it's obvious she's tiring quickly._

_Behind the giant is a girl diametrically opposite from the raging man. Petite and pale, short with hair of moonshine, she is a sharp contrast to Saber's opponent. Crimson eyes are narrowed in cruel mirth as she watches her Servant batter the king of knights into the ground._

_Shirou suddenly steps into view, holding a bow. The weapon twangs, and an arrow bounces harmlessly off the giant's temple. It doesn't seem to register, and the girl laughs._

_Blows continue to rain down on Saber, who can only give ground. Every blow blocked seems to take its toll on her, but she keeps herself upright through sheer will, staving off attacks that would cut a normal person in half._

_Then, the axe-sword smashes down on Saber's guard with such force her body bends in pain. Howling in triumph, the onyx-skinned giant brings his sword down again. Saber's body separates into two pieces, and off to the side, Shirou yells._

_But one of the 'pieces' is actually Saber's silver armor, the plates flying off as the axe-sword cuts them loose from her body. The king of knights charges forward and slashes her opponent in the chest with a great surge of strength. The other Servant is hurled backwards, gouging great holes in the ground with his flailing feet._

_Then, another girl leaps down from a nearby tree. Dressed in a red sweater and possibly-too-short-for-decency black skirt, her hair done up in pigtails, she hurls something at Saber's enemy, which resolves into three massive, spear-shaped icicles._

_Roaring in rage, the enemy Servant smashes all three icicles with ease, but the pieces of ice reform and latch onto his arm, spreading across the limb and encasing his weapon in a chilly embrace. Undeterred, the other Servant reaches out his other arm and seizes the falling girl in a crushing grip._

_Even as the fingers of iron tighten around her slim waist, the girl lets out a smile, and with a cry releases some kind of magical blast. The bolt takes the Servant in the head, and waves of light wash over the clearing._

_Flesh peeling back from his face, the black giant merely tightens his grip, causing the girl to shriek in pain. Saber rushes forward, sword poised, but the blow merely bounces off the giant's arm. Then, in what has to be one of the stupidest moves Harry's ever seen, Shirou charges the massive man, hitting the giant's back with his bow. The giant turns, ignoring Saber's desperate cry, and slaps the redhead across the clearing with one swipe of his frozen sword._

_Undaunted, Shirou picks himself up and tries again, but his leg gives out and he falls over. The giant raises his frozen arm for the kill. Suddenly, Saber is there, light bursting out between her hands. Harry recognizes that glow; it is the same glow she used to destroy the Horcrux. There is no way the giant can survive that, though he wonders why she has not employed it thus far._

_Shirou, however, screams in denial, and Saber falters, the glow fading. Harry watches with surprise; why would he prevent her from using her ultimate weapon?_

_The knight gasps out a few, pained words and falls to her knees, completely spent. Her opponent moves forward, preparing for the final blow._

_Then, with a strangled yell of mingled pain and fury, Shirou produces a sword from the air. Long, golden, and incredibly ornate, it is unmistakably a counterpart to Saber's sword, though somewhat more delicate-looking than the massive golden weapon Saber favors._

_Shirou swings the sword, and his enemy's arm splits in half. The truncated arm falls to the ground, taking the girl with it, as the sword itself shatters from the force of the blow. The redhead staggers, but summons up his strength and tries again. He is clearly in great agony, but once again creates the magnificent blade and attacks the black giant, who rallies and begins the storm of crushing strikes. Shirou is tossed away by the force of the blows, but retains his grip on his weapon. Still, Harry can see that his arms are about to give out. The weapon won't matter if the arms can no longer wield it. The giant attacks one last time._

_But suddenly, Saber is there, deflecting the blow up and over her head. She lets go of her own weapon and turns to Shirou, wrapping her hands around his own. The two of them share a look, gold and green eyes acknowledging what they are about to do._

_And Harry realizes that that look is not just one of comrades preparing to fight together; within it is the seed of a love stronger than just affection. Briefly, he feels jealousy at that bond, having seen its true strength._

_They turn, and swing their shared weapon. Smooth as quicksilver, it shatters the icy blade and slides easily through the berserker's massive chest._

_And Harry wakes up._

* * *

When his eyes opened, he found himself sitting up on a bed, inside the tent. Good thing he had remembered to set the thing back up, otherwise he would probably be complaining about a bad back.

_Another dream, eh? _He thought idly. It was another flashback to Saber's past, one that explained quite a bit. The boy Shirou...he had been her previous Master, and more than that if the dream was to be believed. Just as in the dream, he felt jealous at the bond he had glimpsed. There was no one like that for him anymore; even if Ron and Hermione somehow came to their senses and managed to find him again, they would never have that kind of connection. He would never be able to completely trust them after they had turned their backs on him like this, no matter their reasons.

Perhaps he did not need them. After all, they had been just as unable to destroy the Horcruxes as he had, whereas Saber could easily destroy one with the golden light of her sword. Maybe he should not be lamenting the past, but looking forward to a mission that was no longer impossible to accomplish.

"Well, that's a bit much." He muttered to himself, smiling. It was still not easy, but a great deal more manageable. It was one weapon Voldemort did not have, aside from the love-charm protection that he was not sure still worked.

He left the tent, making sure his wand was in his jacket pocket, and ascended the marble steps. Saber was waiting for him, eyes bright and features sharp as they had been last night.

"Good morning, Harry." The knight nodded gently. "No one has trespassed upon the premises since you went to sleep."

"Thanks for that." The wizard replied. "Do you think we're ready to go? There's really no point staying here any longer."

She nodded again. "Yes, but do you have any idea of where to go next? You say there are three more of these Horcruxes you must destroy, but you do not know where they are. You will need to acquire the proper information. We cannot just charge around blindly battering down walls."

Harry chuckled, reminded briefly of the black giant who seemed to do just that on a regular basis. "Yeah, because neither of us is eight-feet tall with muscles the size of bowling balls."

Saber's eyes sharpened. "You saw Berserker, then." Harry simply smiled and shook his head.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't."

The former king of Britain spitted him with a fierce emerald glare. "You magi are all such deceptive creatures, incapable of stating your intentions without dissembling. I will exact retribution for your unknightly conduct."

"You won't be using Excalibur to do it." Harry shot back. "Because then I'd be dead, and you'd have broken your oath."

Saber turned an interesting shade of red and intensified her glare. Smirking at her interesting complexion, Harry nonetheless reluctantly returned to business.

"Well, there are three left. I know one of them is a snake, which Voldemort always keeps close to him, so that one will have to wait. I'm sure Hogwarts - my school -" he elaborated, "has at least one of them, but he's got the place fortified, so the one that I can best get is the one that I have no idea where it might be."

"You really do not have a plan." Saber commented, her mouth tilting slightly upwards as if amused. "In that case, we will need to capture one of your enemies who would know this secret and interrogate them." She grimaced. "I dislike torture, but such hardened foes would hardly give up their secrets easily."

"You're right." he agreed reluctantly. He didn't particularly relish the idea of trying to capture a high-ranking Death Eater, even with the legendary king of Britain at his side. Who would Voldemort trust enough to give them a piece of his soul to guard? Not Lucius Malfoy, certainly, after the mess he'd made of the diary, but Harry didn't really know any of the other Death Eaters well enough to judge their worth to Voldemort-

_"You have to really mean it, Potter!"_

Realization washed over him, as well as a tide of cold fury.

"Bellatrix Lestrange." The name came out with no inflection, completely flat, which got him an odd glance from Saber. "If he'd give it to anyone, he'd give it to her. She won't know that it's his soul, but she'll certainly know it's of high value to him."

But how to wrest it from her? Bellatrix Lestrange was one of the most powerful Death Eaters, able to duel on par with any member of the Order of the Phoenix and trained in unspeakably cruel dark spells by her equally dark master. Subduing her would be a dangerous exercise, and even then there was no way to get her to cough up her secrets short of Legilimency or Veritaserum, and Harry had neither. Saber, however, seemed satisfied.

"So now we have a goal. Do you have any knowledge of her location?"

"She'll probably be based at the Malfoy Manor with her sister and nephew, when she's not hunting people down on her master's orders." Harry grunted. "It'll be difficult to take her down, and harder to grab what we need from her."

Saber did not say anything for a long moment, and Harry began to fear that she was reconsidering her actions, despite her oath.

"You have set before us a considerable task, Harry." the knight began. "Our chances of accomplishing this mission in our present state are very slim. Fortunately, despite your chance summoning, I am at full strength and receiving a considerable flow of mana from you via our link. However, if you are to die I will be powerless to carry out our task." Harry's heart sank, but he realized she was right. "Therefore, we must endeavor to strengthen your skills. You will need to bolster your magical abilities to match those of your opponents."

Harry barked out a bitter laugh. "They've got years of experience on me, Saber. I don't know how long I'd last in a duel, even if I did learn some new spells."

"Then you must gain an advantage they do not have." Saber's eyes were intense. "The magi I killed; were they typical of your enemy?"

"Wizards," Harry corrected, "and yes. They were pretty average in magic, though. Bellatrix is a lot stronger."

"But she has no knowledge of the physical fighting arts." Saber stated, as if that were a fact. "I will teach you how to use a weapon."

Harry blinked, wondering if he'd heard her correctly. "I'm sorry?"

"I will teach you to use a sword." Saber repeated. "That will give you something the enemy will not be expecting."

"They won't need to, because they can just blast me with a Killing Curse while I'm trying to stick them with a sword." Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh or shout. "How is that going to help?"

"Regardless," Saber said inflexibly, "I will teach you to wield a blade. It will serve you well if you are ever forced to rely on your body instead of your magic."

"Where are you even going to get a sword to teach me with, anyway?" Harry questioned, deciding not to argue with her right now. He didn't much feel like antagonizing his only companion over something so trivial and...the more he thought about it, the less ridiculous it seemed. Wizards did not expect their enemies to close, and in close combat they would be at somewhat of a disadvantage, though depending on their skill level the handicap could be slight. With Saber distracting them by dint of her apparent invulnerability, he might be able to sidle up to them and stick a weapon through their heart, or better yet, Stun them and then do it. The Killing Curse might be a better option, but it had too much of Voldemort's influence about it for Harry to feel completely comfortable utilizing it.

"You will not need a real sword at first." Saber disagreed. "I will make a practice sword for you. We will deal with the issue of a real sword when you are proficient enough to require one."

_So basically, I'm not worth a real sword yet. _Harry thought, smiling ruefully. "Alright, that sounds good."

"We should get going, Harry. There is not much else for us to do." Saber stood. "Prepare your things."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" Harry barked, stifling a grin, and dove back down into the chamber before the knight could react.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: It's here...yay? After months and months of procrastination and bullcrap I finally got this thing out. As always, thanks go to Caphriel, who tweaked like a million things and spent the better part of a day telling me what exactly I did wrong. This chapter would make less sense than it does without him.

A/N 2: Also, go read Chapters 1 and 2. They've been replaced with hopefully better content.

A/N 2.5: It's come to my attention that many readers seem dissatisfied with the Imperius Curse scene. I understand that Harry is virtually immune to the Imperius Curse, but every time it was used on him was when he was at least expecting it. In this case he was completely lost in his thoughts and unprepared for any sort of attack. This is my explanation because it was stated that a considerable amount of will is required to defeat the Imperious Curse, and that by a conscious action. Harry has will in spades, but he wasn't consciously expecting the attack this time. If it seems so unrealistic, my apologies.

* * *

The forest was quite large, and unfortunately Hermione had either neglected to procure a map or taken it with her when she left. As Harry ascended the marble steps from the chamber below, he ruefully admitted to himself he had no idea where they were. He said as much to the knight standing guard outside.

"That is sloppy of you, Harry." Saber scolded. She had dismissed her armor and wore the blue-with-gold-trim dress that had been underneath it. "You must always know where you are. You have relied too heavily upon your friends until now."

Harry chose deliberately not to think about all the homework Hermione had checked for him. "Yeah, you're probably right." He agreed diplomatically. There wasn't really much else to say.

"I am glad to hear it." she replied. "Do you not have any spells that would reveal our location?"

Harry thought it over. The only location-related spell he knew was the Point Me spell, which only pointed north. While that could be potentially useful, it wouldn't mean much since they didn't have any landmarks or any real place to go yet. They just needed to get out of the forest; once they had that done maybe it would be more useful.

"Hold up." He placed his wand on his palm and whispered, "_Point __Me__." _The wand spun on his hand, eventually stopping in an apparently random direction. "This should be north."

The once-king of Britain nodded sharply and turned, seeming to pick a random direction, and walking off that way. Harry sighed and followed, sneakers crunching the underfoot leaves.

After approximately half-an-hour, they were still walking at the same pace in a forest that still looked exactly the same. Harry began to get irritated. They were making apparently no progress and probably wouldn't for quite a while, and in the meantime Voldemort was amassing his forces, torturing people, and generally becoming harder to defeat.

_Damnit__, __I__ wish __I __could __make __a __Portkey__, __or __something__! _He thought furiously. _But__ then__...__I__ still __wouldn__'__t __know __where __to __go__...__Professor__, __why __didn__'__t __you__ leave __me __something __more __substantial __than__ just __the __mission__?_

"Stop fretting, Harry."

Saber had not turned around, but her voice floated gently over her shoulder. Harry stopped.

"What?"

"What will come will come." She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Do not waste your energy and peace of mind worrying over something impossible to change. Focus on your goal, not on what is beyond your control, and do not try to fix the past."

Her words grew softer, and gained a wistful tone. Harry let a smile curve his mouth.

"Did your former Master teach you that, too?"

He could hear the smile, and the light, in her response.

"Yes."

They kept walking, and for some reason it was much easier than before.

Unsurprisingly, Saber turned out to have a very good sense of direction, somehow managing to remember which way was north despite the changing path and subsequently being able to exit the forest in a few hours, despite said forest being rather large.

"Never underestimate providence, Harry. It does not pay to bite the hand that feeds you."

Harry decided to take that advice. Providence had saved him five times already, and he didn't want the streak to end anytime soon.

Something weird was happening every time he looked at Saber. If he thought about her, wondered about her abilities and exactly how much she could do, what appeared to be a bar graph would hover fuzzily over her head, labeled with words that he couldn't quite make out. He did, however, manage to see the word 'Luck', and the corresponding bar was rather high. He'd asked her about that, and she'd responded in her usual matter-of-fact manner.

"To a Master, Servants' stats are visible in a medium that they are most comfortable with. Neither of my Masters ever told me what it looked like to them, so I am unable to provide a satisfactory example."

Harry wondered what it said about him that this chosen medium was a bar graph. Surely he hadn't been hanging out with Hermione that much?

Trekking out of the forest had somehow dumped them on the side of a country road, which was comforting because it meant they were at the edge of civilization rather than completely out of it. They were currently sitting on two conveniently-placed stumps, contemplating the meandering road and wondering what to do next.

Saber's stomach rumbled for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"Okay." Harry stood up. "We need to find a restaurant."

Saber's face turned crimson, and she rose as well, holding out a hand in protest. "N-no, there is no need for you to take such action on my behalf! I am a Servant and do not require regular sustenance, so-"

"It's not entirely altruistic, Saber." Harry shot his Servant a smile. "I'm getting hungry just by listening to you, and frankly, I'd like to have some real food for a change. I'm getting tired of bloody deer and burnt fish."

Saber cocked her head. "Burnt...fish?"

"Yeah, it turned out Hermione couldn't really cook, but at least she tried." Harry's smile widened. "To tell you the truth, I was even worse, and Ron just sat around whining." His face fell.

"These were your companions?" Saber probed, eyes sharpening in interest.

"Yeah. I've known them both since we were all eleven, and they've been my best friends ever since. We've been through a lot together, mostly because of Voldemort trying to kill me every year or so." He coughed. "I wasn't going to let them come at first, because this whole mess is about me and doesn't involve them, but they insisted."

Harry did not add that he had not tried too hard to dissuade them because it was a comforting thought to be able to face his destiny with the best friends he had ever known by his side, and how hard it was to go on when even they had lost faith in him. He did not feel particularly like articulating this sentiment, even to his savior and the reason he was not currently pushing up daisies back in the forest somewhere.

A soft hand placed itself gently on his back, and he turned to see Saber looking at him, emerald eyes full of empathy. He managed a smile and patted her on the shoulder.

Then, on the other hand, perhaps he did not need to. She seemed to understand well enough.

The loud caterwauling of a horn broke through the air of silence that had encompassed the two of them, and Harry leaped up from the tree stump, breaking the contact. His hand instinctively went for the wand in his pocket, but his wrist was suddenly enclosed by Saber's pale hand.

"There is no danger, Harry." Turning around to look at her for the second time in as many minutes, Harry noticed a small smile playing up around her mouth. "While your reflexes are reassuring, the vehicle is innocent of any crimes and does not deserve a curse."

"Maybe not that kind." He muttered.

"Do you two need a ride or something?"

The source of the horn was a rather worn, old pick-up truck that sported a blue-and-silver paint job, unusually flashy for such a utilitarian vehicle. Leaning out from the driver's window was a round-faced man with a considerable paunch and a beard so bushy it reminded Harry of Hagrid. His hair was equally untidy, springing out from his head in tangled curls in a halo of brown strands, but the initial impression of a surly, unkempt trucker was dispelled by the smile that shone out from his face.

"Uh, yeah." Harry answered belatedly, realizing he was staring. "We're kind of lost, and it would be great to get to a place where we could orient ourselves."

The bearded man threw his head back and laughed heartily.

"Ah, young love, eh? I'd be lost too if I had a lady-friend half as good-looking as yours!"

Harry's brain took one precious second to react, and when it did he blurted out, "W-what?"

Saber's face flamed and she snatched her hand from his wrist. "W-what are you suggesting, you cur?" She stood, and while not presenting much of an intimidating figure, Harry knew exactly what kind of strength lay underneath the petite exterior, and if that really was a faint glow around her hand they were going to be screwed.

Quickly, he grabbed the offending hand and muttered out of the side of his mouth, "We're going to need a ride, don't Excalibur the car." Saber subsided, and he released her wrist. Facing the driver again, he managed to deliver a composed reply.

"No, she's not my girlfriend...she's actually my cousin, something removed." He tried desperately to think of a reason why two cousins would be out in a remote forest without any backpacks or visible wilderness paraphernalia, and failed miserably.

The driver raised a skeptical eyebrow but didn't press the issue. "Hop in, then. There's a little town nearby; you can make calls to anybody you need to - there's also a bus stop there, if that'll help."

* * *

"Thanks." Harry opened the door and got in the truck's cramped back. Saber paused, before opting to sit beside him, instead of in the more spacious front seat. The driver's eyebrows rose even further, a smirk curling the edges of his mouth.

"Strap yourselves in, the road's a bit bumpy."

"Thanks again for the ride!" Harry called out as the pick-up truck sped away. In response, a hand extended from the window and waved once, before the truck turned a corner and disappeared.

"Nice guy." he murmured. Not many people would pick up a pair of lost teenagers and go out of their way to deposit them at a rest stop. Especially not in these times, when people disappeared and were later found in the nearby ditch, lifeless and unmoving.

"I did not like him." Saber stirred, brushing at her clothes. The ornate dress she wore fluttered slightly as a breeze caught its fabric. "Such insinuations are unbecoming a man of his stature."

"Which is what, exactly?" Harry favored her with an amused glance. "He's a _lorry__driver_, my lord Arthur. That's not very high up on the social ladder. We don't have a class system anymore. Well," he added, "at least not an official one."

"I am no one's lord anymore." Saber sniffed. "Arthur was-"

"A false name, I know." Harry rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to call you, then?"

"Saber will do fine." She replied, matching his gaze with her own. "I would prefer that my true identity not be trumpeted out while we are engaged against magi. This Voldemort seems devious, and I would not put it past him to devise some magecraft to gather information."

Harry couldn't argue with that, especially knowing that Voldemort had a free pass into his mind, occasionally. The thought struck him with dread.

_I__'__m __going __to __have __to __seriously __practice __Occlumency__. __Though__ judging __by __how __effective __I__ was __with __Snape__, __it__ probably __won__'__t__ help__ at __all__._

He looked around, fingering the grip of his wand thoughtfully. The rest area they had been dropped off was typical enough of such establishments; in addition to the mandatory gas station there was the equally-ubiquitous convenience store and a back-country diner serving what was apparently American-style food, as well as a few stores selling equipment for the long road.

Harry was glad to see that there was indeed a bus stop, and wandered over to it. The slightly-beaten and faded schedule noted that a bus would be along in about an hour, on its way back to a nearby city, which was apparently part of a circuit that would eventually lead back to London.

There was only one problem...they had no money, and Harry was fairly certain the handful of Galleons and Sickles he had in his pockets wouldn't be accepted at a Muggle diner. He didn't know of any Wizarding bank besides Gringotts where he could exchange them for pounds.

He could theoretically Transfigure his Galleons into pounds, but he wasn't confident of his ability to do so. Transfiguration was one of the tougher fields of magic, and he'd never displayed much aptitude for it. There was also the possibility that the Wizarding coins were infused with magic, and so might react badly to any magic he performed. Granted, Hermione had been able to convert them into signal tokens easily enough...but had they been actual Galleons, or had she simply forged them? He wouldn't put it past the goblins to place incredibly vindictive spells on their coins to prevent tampering. Revenge was considered a hobby among them, he'd once heard.

Saber's stomach growled, noticeably louder than it had been before. She looked shamefully down at her abdomen, then turned to look at Harry with pleading green eyes.

"I do not wish to inconvenience us...but could we not stop for sustenance?"

Harry considered the diner. They did not have any money, but he _had_ promised to find a restaurant, and Saber's tell-tale stomach made things a little awkward. He would feel terrible if she had to suffer the rest of the day without food-

A banner flapping from the roof of the diner caught his eye. _CHALLENGE__ OF__ THE __IRON__ STOMACH__ - __FREE __MEAL __FOR __WINNERS__!_

"Harry?" Saber tapped his arm lightly, and he realized he'd been staring blankly at the sign for a few moments. "Is everything all right?"

The young wizard looked at her, then back at the sign.

"How hungry are you, Saber?" He asked. The knight king frowned.

"Quite. I believe I could ingest considerable quantities of food, if there were any available."

Harry half-smiled, half-sighed. "You might be able to get lunch after all." He nodded at the sign. Saber studied the words for a few moments, eyeing the banner intensely.

"...'Free Meal'?" Green eyes turned to him hopefully.

"Hold on," Harry cautioned, "These diners use things like this to rack up huge debts; if you can't eat everything they specify you'll have to pay for it all, and we can't afford to. We should check the list before letting them fleece us."

Saber narrowed her eyes. "They would engage in such dishonest practices?" Emerald flashed. "It is unfortunate for them my stomach is empty, for I will never turn down a challenge." Smoothing down her dress, she marched towards the diner, brisk steps betraying purpose and conviction.

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead, seeing in the girl's commanding stride a glimpse of his future and not liking what he saw.

_Did__ you__ have __to __deal __with __this__, __Shirou__? _He wondered, then remembered the dream and shrugged. _No__, __you__ were __worse__ than __her__._

Letting out a final sigh of resignation, he followed Saber across the street.

Either the staff was extremely efficient, or Saber was really, really hungry. By the time he had entered the restaurant, the knight king was already seated in a side-booth working her way methodically through a bowl of soup and a loaf of bread.

Harry made a beeline for her, sliding into the booth across from her. She managed a curt nod as another spoonful of soup made its way into her mouth.

"Did they tell you how much you're supposed to eat?" Harry murmured, so as not to be overheard by the waiters not-so-covertly passing by.

"No," Saber managed between mouthfuls, "they only assured me that 'a growing young girl' like myself would easily be able to handle it." The corner of her mouth not currently occupied with the spoon turned upwards.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Don't get so cocky, Saber." he warned. "If you mess up we'll get saddled with debts we can't pay."

Saber shook her spoon in front of him, nearly splashing his face with soup.

"Really, Harry, you should have more faith in me. I was winning battles long before you were born. Trust me to know my capabilities." She dipped the spoon back into the bowl and stuck it resolutely into her mouth.

Harry sighed and leaned back. "Sure."

Saber finished the bowl of soup and devoured the loaf of bread, shredding the entire thing into easily-edible chunks with efficient flicks of her fingers. The staff, seeing her plate empty, quickly brought over more plates of steaming meat and vegetables.

The knight king's eyes took on a predatory gleam, and Harry suddenly felt sorry for the diner.

* * *

Approximately thirty minutes later, Saber leaned back against the cushioned chair-back and let out a contented sigh, patting her stomach.

"That was...satisfactory." She turned to the waiter standing there with bulging eyes and a gaping, slack jaw, and bowed her head slightly. "Your cooks have performed adequately, please convey my compliments to them."

Harry put a hand over his mouth and tried hard not to laugh as the waiter continued to resemble a fish out of water. Other customers had gathered as well, all fixated on the towering stack of empty plates that even now threatened to topple onto the floor and shatter.

He hadn't been that hungry to begin with, but in a concession to his appetite he had pilfered some bits of Saber's massive lunch when the waiters had not been looking. That would, of course, have made no difference given the way Saber had methodically demolished what seemed to be at least twice her weight in meat, vegetables, and soup.

The diner had been horrified to realize that they would not be collecting a great deal of money, as they had originally anticipated.

Saber pulled out the sides of her skirts and dipped her body in a graceful curtsy that only widened the angle of the waiter's gaping jaw. The other customers had similar reactions.

"Damn, she's hot!" A scruffy-looking teenager elbowed his friend, leaning in to deliver the comment. His whisper nonetheless carried around the diner, and more than a few diners narrowed their eyes in disapproval.

"I don't know, mate." The other boy, a hat perched on top of his unkempt hair, looked skeptical. "What's she doing wearing that kind of dress? Looks like the kind of thing you wear on a date...maybe to some kind of fancy restaurant?"

Out of the corner of his peripheral vision, Harry noticed the first teen fall silent and wondered if he would have to do anything about it. If his luck held, maybe he would not.

"If she is..." the scruffier boy seemed to be thinking, an activity he was apparently not used to, "what's with the dude? Is he her date or something?'

After a brief pause, the hat-wearing boy replied, "I dunno. They don't look related..."

"Well, then." He could hear the predatory smile in the first teen's voice.

Harry resisted the urge to cast Levicorpus and dangle the obnoxious kid from the ceiling. Though the Trace was broken, Voldemort might still have some way to isolate and locate any magic he used. If any Death Eaters happened to be in the area, they would arrive to investigate; magic could be easily detected if one knew what one was looking for. The punk wasn't worth it.

He tapped Saber gently on the shoulder. "We should probably get going, S-sis." Inside, Harry winced.

_Didn__'__t __they __just __say __we __don__'__t __look__ alike__? __Crap__, __I__'__m__ an __idiot__._

They were going to have to do something about this. Pretending to be related was not going to work in a serious conversation, but he could not go around calling the Servant by her class name. That would be stupid and raise even more undue attention.

Because really, what kind of idiot would believe 'Saber' qualified as an actual name?

Footsteps indicated that the teen was moving forward, regardless of the slip. Harry refrained from hissing in vexation. He did not need this right now.

"Heads-up," he muttered to the former king of Britain. "Inconvenience on the way."

Saber favored him with a slight smile. "Did I not tell you to trust me? A boy is hardly more of a threat than a knight in full armor, and I have handled many of those in my time."

"Considering that your method of 'handling them' was to chop them in half, that doesn't give me a lot of confidence." Harry muttered.

"True, that was not an accurate analogy," Saber frowned, "but a king's life is not all violence and bloodshed. I have handled more delicate matters."

The footsteps stopped, and Harry felt himself rudely elbowed aside. He stumbled, stifling the reflex to pull his wand as the scruffier teen pushed past. The hat-wearing teen did not follow his friend, instead shaking his head ruefully and offering a shrug to Harry.

"Hey there," the scruffy teen grinned, swaggering over to Saber to peer into her face. Calm emerald eyes stared back at him, unflinchingly cold and resolute.

The boy's smirk wavered and then fell apart.

Saber gave him one last look, then stepped delicately around him and strode back to Harry.

"Come, Harry. Let us go."

Harry shook his head, offered a smirk to the now-shaking teenager, and followed Saber out the door, leaving the diner in a state of semi-stunned silence. They exited into the open air, and Saber let out a sigh that contained equal parts exasperation and relief. Harry grinned.

"Very subtle, Saber."

Saber fixed him with an irritated stare. "It was successful. What does it matter if he now thinks twice before repeating that course of action?" Her mouth quirked up. "Besides, you were not exactly subtle either..._brother__._"

Harry laughed. "That's what, the third joke I've gotten out of you? Not bad, for someone as humorless as you are. Besides, you don't see many people walking around with eyes like ours. They're not too common."

Something tensed in Saber's posture. Her shoulders tightened slightly. "No," she agreed almost inaudibly, "they are not."

"Bad memories?" Harry asked quietly. Saber nodded, a miniscule motion of her head.

"Of a sort."

The young wizard racked his brains, attempting to think of something comforting to bring her out of her funk, but could only come up with sarcastic comments about how Mordred was supposed to share her features.

_That__'__s __more__ something__ Ron __would__ say__. __I__ don__'__t__ need __the __ensuing __fallout__. _Harry decided a change in subject might be a better idea.

"Alright, we're done here. We should focus on the bus stop now. I'm still not sure how we're going to pay the fare, though." Harry dug a hand into one pocket, searching halfheartedly for any loose change. "Hey, do you think we could-"

The only warning he got was a widening of Saber's eyes before she blurred into motion, tackling him to the side. A startled shout wrenched itself from his throat as they skidded onto the ground together, before a bolt of green light flashed past and struck the diner window, shattering the glass in an explosion of green fire.

Thirteen black-robed figures emerged from thin air, flicking off cloaks and capes from their shoulders. Wands emerged from folds and pockets, and Harry caught a glimpse of a silver mask as one wizard turned. In unison the group lowered their wands to point down at Harry.

He fumbled for his own wand, cursing as it refused to dislodge itself from his jeans. "Damnit, damnit," he chanted softly. "Of all the times to get stuck, why now?"

Saber rose from the pavement, slender body glowing as plates of armor appeared on her dress. Green eyes narrowed in challenge as wind rustled around her gauntlets. Several of the Death Eaters stepped back, clearly wary of the strange woman dressed like a knight.

"Stay back, Harry. I will take the brunt of their attack." The king of Camelot whispered softly. "Do not let yourself get killed, else I will be very annoyed with you."

"As my lord commands." Harry grinned crookedly, finally freeing his wand from his pants and getting up. Saber rolled her eyes briefly, but offered him a quick smile. Then, with a flash of blue and silver, she was hurtling towards the Death Eaters headlong, a battle cry escaping from her mouth.

Harry dodged another Killing Curse and shouted, _"__Expelliarmus__!" _Red light answered his shout, and one Death Eater swore as his wand flew out of his hand. Another shout of "_Accio__wand__!" _sent the tool flying towards him, and he caught it in his left hand, grinning as he felt the brief touch of magic warm his palm.

"You know," the young wizard began conversationally as a Death Eater sent a stream of flame at him, ducking under the fire as it singed his hair, "I've never used two wands before. I wonder what it's like?"

The Death Eater did not answer, instead conjuring up a stream of daggers that flung themselves towards him. A mutter of _"__Protego__," _stopped the weapons in front of him with an audible clatter as they fell to the floor. Harry smirked, pointed both his wands at the Death Eater, and intoned, _"__Stupefy__."_

Twin jets of crimson light struck the Death Eater in the face, throwing his hood back and shattering his silvered mask. The impact flung him off his feet and through the air for a few, brief seconds before he slammed into the asphalt and rolled onto the other side of the street.

"Oh," Harry said, mildly surprised. "It's like that."

A flash of silver entered his peripheral vision, and something tugged him off his feet. He crashed to the ground with a thump, somehow retaining both wands, and grimaced as the band of silver light tightened around his ankles. A Death Eater charged towards him, flames sparking from the tip of his wand. _Shit__._

The first thing that came to mind was surprisingly _not_the Stunning Spell. Instead, Harry flicked his wrist and chanted in his head, _Levicorpus__! _The Death Eater let out a strangled cry as his feet slipped out from underneath him and rose into the air, dangling him upside-down several feet above the dirt. With his other hand, Harry sent a Stunning Spell at the Death Eater and terminated the Levicorpus spell just after the red light struck, knocking the wizard out and depositing his unconscious body on the ground.

Breathing hard, Harry stood up, feeling the spell vanish, and chanced a look over at his companion. She seemed to be having a much easier time. Even hidden in its sheath of wind and air, Excalibur's presence was still unmistakable as it swept down again and again, spraying blood and viscera all over the battlefield. Four of the remaining ten wizards were already down, missing arms, legs, and most importantly, heads, while the others frantically cast flurries of spells at her to stop themselves from sharing their unfortunate comrades' fate. They were pretty good, Harry noted; after realizing Stunning Spells and Killing Curses had no effect on the petite knight, they had switched their focus to binds and indirect assaults. Currently ropes of gold and green light were attempting to restrain Saber's quickly-moving form, but they disappeared as soon as they touched cloth or armor, and only a barrage of conjured boulders were stopping the knight from cutting them up into tiny pieces.

"Stop that!" One of the Death Eaters finally barked, firing off a bolt of blue flame that burned itself out on Saber's silver gauntlet. A solid chain, forged of steely-gray links, shot from the tip of his wand and wrapped itself around the knight's waist, trapping her arms and forcing the deadly, invisible greatsword down until it dragged against the dirt. "Use solid things if you wanna stop her!"

Saber grimaced as the chain wound itself tighter around her midriff. With a grunt, she snapped her arms up, and the links of metal snapped, falling to pieces around her. Excalibur slammed down like a thunderbolt and took the Death Eater's head clean off, splashing his comrades with blood.

"You will have to do better than that, knave." Saber snapped, swinging the wind-encased blade in a vicious arc. The Death Eater it was meant for screamed and vanished with a crack, clearly signaling a Disapparation. The other four stood their ground, conjuring more boulders and even a dinner table while directing Blasting Spells and Killing Curses towards the inexorably advancing knight. None of it did them any good. Rocks fell apart as Excalibur slashed through them, and the spells simply dissipated off Saber's body upon impact.

Death Eaters were not soldiers. They were terrorists, nothing more. They killed and tortured because they enjoyed it, and were used to their victims panicking and fleeing, or blindly trying to fight back. They were scum, lowest of the low. Like vultures they were brave when their targets could not fight back, and cowardly when a victim developed unexpected teeth. It was no different here. Saber cut them down mercilessly, deaf to their cries and pleas for mercy as blood pooled around her feet.

Harry closed his eyes and turned away, fighting the urge to retch. The knight king had not been overly concerned with cleanliness; a liberal quantity of blood was splattered about the pavement. Some of it even decorated a car unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity. The citizens of the town would have a time explaining this to the police who would eventually turn up. That reminded him.

"Saber?" he called. She glided to his side, gracefully side-stepping the corpses.

"Yes?"

"We'll need to get rid of the bodies, and I should wipe the minds of the people inside the diner so they won't be able to give us away. Could you pile up all the bodies, make it easy for me to get rid of them?"

"Of course." Saber nodded. She knelt beside one of the decapitated Death Eaters and easily lifted the body with one hand, slinging it over her shoulders. The head she picked up by the hair, apparently not at all disgusted with the contact, and carried both the body and the head over to where most of the bodies lie. She dropped both casually, and then set about piling the corpses together, heedless of the crimson that stained her clothes and armor.

Harry shook his head, wondering if he should be bemused or concerned, then decided not to waste time on either. He headed toward the diner, sneakers crunching against gravel. As he passed the car with the bloodstained windshield, he paused.

The Vanishing Spell was very difficult, and he had not managed to make it work on even small animals like snails, but maybe it would work on blood, especially blood that hadn't dried yet?

"_Evanesco__."_

Most of the liquid vanished immediately, though a rather sizable portion was left just below the windshield wipers. It was not too noticeable, though, so Harry shrugged and continued his tread towards the diner. His grip tightened fractionally on both wands. Except for Lockhart, he'd never had much contact with the Memory Charm, and while Hermione had made certain he could at least perform it, he wasn't looking forward to essentially stealing memories from people whose only crime was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Harry."

Saber's murmur stopped him short. Though quiet, it managed somehow to carry all the way over to him without problems. He turned, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively. Saber offered him a steady gaze, sympathy evident in her eyes. She did not say anything, but somehow that look made him feel a lot better.

_Great__, __Potter__. __You__'__re __falling __for __a __bloody __legend __stuck __in __the __body __of __a __fourteen __year__-__old __girl__. __You__...__what__'__s __the __word__... __pedophile__._

Harry frowned, disturbed by the chain of thought. It had not seemed like a physical attraction, more like the look of a friend ready to step in whenever the situation demanded it. Actually, it reminded him of the time he had caught Ginny ranting about a rather obnoxious Ravenclaw prefect, and how Hermione had looked during the discussion. She had not said anything, but Harry had later heard the prefect in question had been subject to a minor but rather inconvenient hex that made it difficult for her to be overbearing, considering her voice cracked whenever she tried to do so.

Saber was turning out to be a very good companion indeed. No wonder Shirou had fallen for her.

The diner door opened and closed.

* * *

Approximately ten minutes later, Harry left the diner, wands clenched tightly in his hands. It had not been one of the more pleasant experiences in his life. In fact, it might have been one of the worst.

The windows of the building had provided them a decent view of the ensuing fracas, and especially Saber's bloody handiwork. For some reason none of them had tried to flee, probably reasoning that it would not be, in any way, a good idea to attract the attention of the homicidal young woman and her light-shooting friend. Once he opened the door, every single person in the building had immediately tried to make themselves as small and inconspicuous as possible.

The Memory Charms had not helped, either. Naturally, the people who saw him use them had no idea what they were for, and as soon as the first woman had dropped to the floor, eyes glazed and body limp, they had assumed the worst.

"_Please__ don__'__t__ kill __me__! __Oh__ god__, __please__!"_

"_Listen__, __I__ have__ a __wife __and __kids__, __one __of __them__'__s__ your __age__...__you__ wouldn__'__t __want __to __leave __kids __without__ a __father__, __would __you__?"_

He swore the wood of his wand creaked under his fist. No, that would be the last thing he would ever want. Fortunately, no one had actually put up a fight, and he had managed to Obliviate the lot of them without any problems. Still, the terrified expressions would stay with him for as long as he lived.

_They__ thought__ I__was __going__ to__ kill __them__. __To__ kill__ them__ just __like __Voldemort__ killed __my__ parents__._

If he had not been completely decided against the use of the Killing Curse, he was now. It was not the only way to kill, and it was probably the most convenient way to do so, but even thinking of using the curse made him feel nauseous. He would need to find alternate ways of dispatching his opponents. It could be something of a headache, researching spells to achieve the same effect.

And yet...it was also something of a comfort that he would never stoop that low. It was unlikely that he could become a murderous wizard of Voldemort's ilk if he could not cast the Killing Curse. This fact oddly lifted his spirits.

He was still not totally comfortable with manipulating the memories of the unfortunates in the diner, and that too was comforting. Perhaps Dumbledore could do it without flinching, with his iron conviction that it was all 'for the greater good', but Harry had an ingrained respect for people's boundaries that made it difficult to engage in such blatant violations of people's minds. Perhaps he was naive, perhaps he was fooling himself, but even so it was a balm to his troubled mind.

These thoughts almost got him killed.

As he stepped away from the door, his mind went blank. For a split-second he had time to wonder _What__? _before he lost all sense of where he was and what he was doing. A vague sense of contentment spread over him, and he felt his muscles relax.

_That__'__s __right__...__Walk__ out __the __door__...__There__'__s __nothing __wrong__...__Everything__'__s__ all __right__..._

Of course it was.

* * *

Saber heaved the final corpse onto its fellows and booted one of the heads that was beginning to roll away back into the heap. Mission accomplished, she took a step away from the heap. With a thought, she summoned the wind-shrouded Excalibur to her hand and shoved it firmly into the ground, leaning on the sword's pommel with both hands.

She would wait until Harry returned from his errand. Though the need to leave was pressing, she would let him tend to his business on his own. He would need to develop his own strength to deal with the challenges ahead; there would be much to do that would be displeasing, but that did not mean he could shirk it. As a Servant she would be at her Master's beck and call, but this was his quest, not hers.

Saber was, actually, not a very patient individual. She could settle herself into meditative states in which days could fly pass without her noticing, but in this situation that was impractical.

So instead, she thought of Shirou.

What was he doing now? Was he pursuing his dream of becoming a champion of justice? Had he refined his magecraft into a combat-capable discipline? It did not seem likely; he had been a novice magus, and only a substantial amount of time would see his weak magic circuits mature enough to handle the strain his magecraft placed on them. He would presumably rope Rin into assisting him, and under her tutelage he would undoubtedly go far.

Surprisingly, she felt a stab of jealousy at the thought of Rin. The teenage genius was levelheaded and pragmatic; she would keep Shirou grounded while he pursued his impossible dream, and perhaps keep him company in other ways...

The knight king was not an expert in romance, but hindsight and the Lancelot-Guinevere affair had taught her to at least see some of the signs. Rin's attraction to the dense-as-brick young redhead had been obvious throughout their time together, and she was also uncommonly beautiful. If she continued to teach him magecraft, such close quarters would undoubtedly reveal her true feelings, and by that time it was very likely Shirou would reciprocate them.

_Would__ she __be __better __for__ him__ than __I__? __She __can __keep __him __from __destroying __himself __in__ pursuit __of__ his __dream__, __whereas __I__...__I __could __only __follow __him__ to__ his __destruction__...__Perhaps __it__ is __better__ this __way__-_

Her melancholy reverie was disrupted by a jolt from the part of her mind that housed the Master-Servant interface. The sensation was gone before she could identify it, but whatever it was it boded ill. The interface only acted up when one of the two was injured or incapacitated.

_Harry__!_

Excalibur flicked up from the ground as Saber wrenched it from the ground, and without pausing, rushed towards the diner doors.

"Stop."

Her Master stood in front of the restaurant and Saber heaved a sigh of relief...until she saw his eyes. They were completely blank, without the spark that normally resided in those emerald orbs.

"Harry?" Saber took a step towards him. Harry's gaze fixed on her, but his eyes were not focusing on her; instead they stared as if attempting to see through her. Dread coiled in her stomach.

"Are you well?" she enquired, taking a firmer grip on Excalibur. In response, Harry nodded. His head sagged limply on his neck.

"I'm fine...everything's fine..." he said monotonously, "you can leave now."

The dread in her intensified. He was not acting like himself.

"No, Harry. I will not. If you wish me to leave, you know what you must do."

The wizard paused, staring blankly at her. Then, the air beside him rippled, and the Death Eater who had escaped her blade earlier stood beside him, wand pressed to his throat.

He had lost his silver mask, and sweat ran down a greasy, pock-marked face and into a ragged beard. Shifty brown eyes stared out in barely-concealed terror at Saber.

"Don't move! I'll kill him, I swear I will!" he shouted, jabbing his wand into Harry's throat.

Saber snarled in fury. _This _is what happened every time she allowed her Master out of her sight. Irisviel was kidnapped, Shirou was nearly killed _twice_, and now an honor-less knave had Harry at his mercy.

That was the last straw. She would never allow him to be alone again for as long as their contract held.

"G-get back!" Pupils dilated in terror, and the man jabbed his wand into Harry's neck again. "Step away, or I'll kill him!"

Reluctantly, Saber did as he demanded, taking one step backwards and measuring the distance as she did so. It was a short distance, and she was certain she could leap it in one bound and skewer the Death Eater, but she was uncertain how his wand would react. Would he be able to get off one last curse and slay her Master before he died?

The man seemed to gain heart from her retreat, a cruel smile forming on his lips. Wicked pleasure replaced terror in his eyes, and Saber recognized it as the petty thrill particularly weak and twisted individuals got when forcing others to submit to them.

"That's right, nice and easy." The tip of the wand poked the hollow of Harry's neck for emphasis. Saber's eyes narrowed. "Keep moving."

Grinding her teeth, the knight king took another tiny step backwards. Then another. Apparently this wasn't good enough for the now-leering Death Eater.

"Move faster, bitch!" The tip of his wand ignited, a tiny red-orange flame that sent smoke wafting towards her Master's vulnerable throat. "I'll make it slow," he promised, grinning crazily.

For a moment, Saber considered throwing caution to the wind and charging the Death Eater. She had been in this situation many times and more often than not, boldness had won the day. In any case, the Death Eater would not kill Harry Potter without bringing him to his leader...but desperate men do desperate things, and the man had been having what was essentially a breakdown two minutes ago. The situation was too unpredictable for such a brute-handed tactic.

The thought of Harry's throat blackened and charred by flame nauseated her. The entire affair was galling; to be held at the whim of a petty thug through bad luck and carelessness. There was nothing to do but go along with his demands, and hope that there would be a way to get him back. Harry had said that the most likely place to find the Dark Lord would be in Malfoy Manor; she would have to locate someone who knew where it was.

_I__ am__ sorry__, __Harry__._

She backed up more, until there was a long stretch of empty space between her and the kidnapper, who leered with satisfaction as the woman who had slaughtered his compatriots was forced to retreat. He opened his mouth, as if to release one last jeering taunt.

A jet of red light struck him in the side of the head, and he toppled over, falling to the ground with an unpleasant-sounding thump. Ropes of light appeared immediately, wrapping around the man's limbs and binding them together. Saber started.

_What __was __that__?_

Harry blinked, then pressed a hand to his forehead. He looked around, until his eyes settled on the tense form of the knight king.

"Saber? W-what happened?" He grimaced, moving forward only to grasp at one leg and stumble. "Oh no, I'm going to pass out now aren't I-"

His legs buckled, and he fell to the ground, eyes rolling up in his head.

Or, he would have had a strong hand not caught him and hauled him up.

The new arrival was a tall, slender man draped in nondescript black robes. A thin, sallow face framed piercing brown eyes, above which perched thick, bushy eyebrows. His mouth was twisted into a frown. One hand gripped Harry beneath his right armpit and the other held a wand almost a foot long.

He did not look to be the kind of person Saber wanted anywhere near her Master.

The strange man lowered Harry none too gently to the ground, then touched one finger to the younger wizard's throat. Saber started, but the man simply held it there for a moment, and then removed his finger, evidently satisfied. Then, he looked up, casting a surly glance at the knight king.

"Vhat are you looking at?"

* * *

_He is dreaming again, though it is far less coherent than what he had seen before. It is not a single scene that unfolds before his eyes, but many. Some are indistinct shadows that flash for brief seconds before vanishing, and others are vivid images that continue to play out against the black background. They are diverse and different, but they all have one common component._

_He is in them. Changed, perhaps, and in some almost unrecognizable, but there, and so he wonders what exactly it is he is seeing, and what significance it holds, but it is an idle musing and he cannot bring himself to truly care._

_And so he watches..._

_A man with bleached-bone skin and no nose cackles in triumph as his victim crumples to the ground, glasses falling away and hair flapping aside to reveal a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead..._

_A man with unruly black hair and green eyes twirls merrily away from a massive beam of pink energy that obliterates the building behind him, calling cheerfully up to the girl dressed in white who fired it. An answering smile tugs at her lips before she angles the oddly-shaped staff in her hands to point down at him, energy gathering at the curious red jewel floating at the gold-crowned arc of her weapon..._

_A man clad from head-to-toe in silver plate armor stands inside a cavernous room in front of a simple throne, in which a beautiful woman sits entrapped by chains, head hanging down and eyes closed. The man raises a sword only slightly shorter than he is, as if to plunge it into the woman's chest, but a shadow hurtles down from above, deflecting the blade and sending the swordsman staggering back. Another man dressed in the tattered remnants of a school uniform lands in a crouch, brandishing a knife, and with a yell launches himself at the swordsman, gray eyes glowing..._

_A pink-haired woman dressed in a strange, futuristic-looking uniform watches stoically as a blond woman with red eyes and a black uniform skirting the limits of decency is led off by a laughing brunette with a ponytail pulled out from the side of her head, rather than the back. A younger boy approaches and stands next to her, green eyes radiating concern and apprehension. The woman starts and manages a wan smile for him, but he does not appear convinced..._

_A silver-haired boy crouches over the body of a dark-skinned woman, clutching her hand and sobbing desperately. She touches his cheek once, smiles briefly, then closes her eyes. He cries harder and buries his head in her chest. The air behind him shimmers, and a black-robed man appears, a wand in his right hand. A black-haired woman follows him, clad in a red jacket and wearing a bored expression on her face. The wizard lays a hand on the boy's shoulder, then stands and surveys the carnage around them. He walks over to one of the bodies, a pink-haired woman clad in a uniform with an extremely short skirt, and picks up her weapon, a strange sword-gun hybrid with rotating gears..._

_A red-haired boy reclines on a couch, absently clicking through the channels on the television. Another boy walks in, running a hand through a voluminous head of raven hair, and plops down next to him, making idle comments at the various programs. The redhead fixes him with an irritated stare and shuts off the television. They both stare awkwardly at the blank screen for a few minutes, until the door opens. A strikingly-blond man walks in, and while clearly older than both of them, happens to be noticeably shorter than both of them as well. His hair sticks out in wild spikes, and there is a pink-haired woman latched tightly around his back, breathing easily into his neck. He glares daggers at the black-haired boy, who promptly bursts out in laughter and falls off the couch. The blond turns despairing eyes to the redhead, who sighs and leaves the room, returning later with a massive sword that resembles a butcher's knife more than anything else. Carefully, he wedges the blade in the space between the blonde's back and the pinkette's body, and pries. The woman falls off, onto her rear, and springs up, shaking sleep from her eyes and glaring bloody murder. The redheaded boy wisely makes his retreat through the door, pursued by his would-be assassin, while the raven-haired boy continues to convulse in hilarity and the blond bends to pick up the sword..._

_A new vision appears, clearer and sharper than any of the others. A redheaded boy stands in the middle of a city in the midst of night, wearing an average blue-and-white T-shirt and jeans. By his side stands a taller, more slender man with piercing green eyes and messy black hair. He is clad in set of undistinguished black robes, and has a longsword sheathed at his left side. Opposite from them stands a tiny slip of a girl, with pale porcelain skin and maliciously-glinting red eyes. A massive obsidian giant looms up behind her, a monster of a bow clutched in his right hand. The girl laughs and points at her adversaries, and the giant leaps over her, drawing the string of the bow back to his ear. The redhead starts to move forward to meet his charge, but his companion shoves him to the side and whips his sword from its scabbard. It slides free easily, and the swordsman snaps the blade in an arc, knocking the giant's bow from his hand. The giant laughs in amusement and raises a hand to smash his puny opponent into the ground..._

_And he wakes up._

* * *

"Harry? Are you well?"

The first thing Harry saw was Saber's concerned face hovering over his own, green eyes alight with concern.

"I'm fine, yeah, thanks." His head felt like someone was pounding away at the insides with a sledgehammer, but otherwise he was alright.

"Liar." The voice was low, raspy, and flavored with a faint hint of amusement. "The Imperius Curse leaves you feeling like you haff had one too many drinks."

Rubbing his head, Harry looked up, and into the last face he had expected to see.

"Krum?"


	4. Chapter 4

Ello! One month of procrastination followed by a week of intense writing for lack of anything better to do, followed by another few weeks of on-and-off fact-checking, research, and pre-reading. The product of that time is this chapter, which may either result in cheers or groans of 'my god, is that idiot Bloodhawk still writing?'

A couple of people to thank for this. First up is Caphriel, the Beta-Who-Put-Up-With-More-Stupidity-Than-He-Should-Have-Had-To. There were so many plot holes that he found and fixed, if you consider the entire plot of this delusional day-dream as a plot hole, which I did. He fixed that too, and was also responsible for helping me streamline the thing so that it's much more readable and coherent. Go check out his Continuation of the Dream; it's an excellent fic centering on Saber, so if you're angry I've screwed up her characterization go read it. It's much more sensible.

Next is my friend 0.o ninjaewoks 0.o . He's actually had to deal with me and my crap for at least seven years now, but he hasn't tried to murder me yet! He's also behind some plot changes further down the line, and a guiding force behind a shift in my mentality.

Third is Ryuus2, who so kindly looked through the chapter and fixed some errors. Unfortunately, I ended up mixing up the docs and the DocX, and so his changes may or may not have made it in, but it was great of him to accept my request. Props, dude! Go check out his stuff, too, he's got a few ideas bouncing around.

Now, for chapter notes. This was the easiest chapter of the five I've written so far (including Chapter 5), but also one of the hardest in that I had to wrestle with characterization. Man, it's hard to get into these guys' heads. Still, I'm fairly satisfied with the result, and Krum now has the distinction of being my favorite character to write.

Well then, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Harry blinked; when Krum failed to go away he blinked again, and finally settled on gazing open-mouthed at the Bulgarian's unexpected appearance. Krum tolerated the look for about two seconds, then his scowl deepened and he made an irritated gesture with his wand.

"Are you going to just lie around? Ve do not have time for this. The Dark Lord's minions vill be back and I do not vant to get into another fight vith those lunatics."

The young wizard's mind snapped back to the present, and he pushed himself to his feet. "I've got questions, but they'll have to wait, won't they?" He paused.

"Wait, where's my wand?"

Wordlessly, Krum stooped and rifled through the unconscious wizard's robes, producing Harry's wand and tossing it towards him in a negligent gesture.

"Um...thanks?" Harry managed.

Krum just grunted and touched his wand to the would-be killer's forehead. The tip glowed white briefly, and then he stood up, pocketing his wand and removing a small, polished stick of wood.

"Touch this. It is a Portkey."

"Where are we going?" Harry asked. Krum grunted.

"There is no time to explain. Ve must go now."

"Harry, wait." The knight king strode to his side, fixing their new companion with a distrustful, if not outright hostile look. For his part, Krum returned the not-quite glare with a brief, uninterested glance, then looked away. "This man is unknown to us. He may have hostile intentions-"

"It's alright, Saber." He interrupted. "I know him. He's - well, a friend of a friend. He's a friend of Hermione's."

Saber turned briefly to give him a skeptical look. "The girl who abandoned you on this journey? I do not trust her judgement."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Krum's fist tighten slightly on his wand.

"Look, we can trust him, okay? He's right that we need to get out of here." Without further ado, Harry grabbed Saber's hand and placed it on the stick, closing her fingers around it. He made sure to grip the Portkey tightly with his other hand.

The effect was much as he remembered. His stomach twisted as the space around him vanished in a kaleidoscope of color, his body hurtling through the air courtesy of the hook jammed solidly in his navel. Wind howled in his ears with the force of a typhoon. Saber's hand was still gripped in his, and he belatedly tightened his hold, hoping that she had a solid grip with her other hand.

The spinning continued for what seemed to be an ungodly amount of time, and just as he began to wonder if the Portkey was malfunctioning, his insides gave a great jerk. The torrent of light and sound vanished immediately, as if it never had been. He felt his feet slam into the ground rather painfully, but managed to keep his footing, even as someone else staggered into him and he reflexively caught them, letting go of the Portkey in the process.

A cough reached his ears, gruff, harsh, and with a hidden tone of amusement. He looked down, only mildly surprised to find Saber ensconced within his arms and even less surprised to find a light blush coloring her cheeks.

"Harry? You may let me go, now. I am able to stand."

"If you're sure." He released his hold on her as Krum moved towards them, ever-present scowl marring his features, and took a moment to assess their surroundings. They had been transported to some kind of wilderness area not much different from the forest he and Saber had been in previously. Trees rose from the ground in haphazard patterns, dotting the ground with columns of green and brown. To complete the picture, a rundown, neglected-looking shack sat in the small clearing, looking somewhat out of place among the greenery.

The Bulgarian jerked a thumb at the building. "This is one of your Order's safe-houses," he grunted. "Ve vill rest here for the time being." Without further rhetoric he stomped methodically towards the shack, eventually opening the door and disappearing into the house.

Harry stared after him for a moment. While Krum had been on very friendly terms with Hermione and his presence at Bill and Fleur's wedding had virtually ensured that he was still in Britain after Voldemort's coup, there was no reason Harry could think of that the Bulgarian Seeker would join the Order of the Phoenix, nor for him to endure an undoubtedly-harrowing journey into the forests of England in order to track down someone who at best was a friendly acquaintance of his. Krum had always struck him as a pragmatic man intolerant of distractions; the impatience he often showed with reporters and the quick, efficient ways he had handled his Triwizard Tasks highlighted that. Why, then, would he go to so much effort to find Harry?

"You are troubled, Harry." The musical tones of Saber's voice chopped through his musing, followed by the clank of her armored feet as she moved to stand beside him, blonde hair flapping gently in a sudden gust of wind.

"No kidding," the wizard grunted. "I don't know why he's here. Oh, we can trust him," he hastened to add as Saber's emerald eyes narrowed, "he's definitely not our enemy, but we're not friends. I don't know why he bothered to track me down."

Saber tilted her head to one side, considering. Harry was abruptly reminded of a fellow student contemplating a particularly difficult problem, if that student wore full plate armor and carried a legendary sword.

"What other connections do you have to this man? It is highly unlikely the reason he sought you has no relation to you." The king of knights folded her arms; Harry didn't remember her putting away Excalibur but apparently she had. "Perhaps he is a friend of your friend, and he has been charged with your safe return?"

Harry barked out a sharp laugh. "Krum's not the knight-in-shining-armor type, I don't think. No, it's something else."

"Perhaps you should ask him yourself." Saber gestured towards the cabin. "We should take him up on his offer of shelter, should we not?"

A sudden yawn welled up from nowhere, threatening to split Harry's jaw. "Yeah, that might be a good idea."

* * *

The inside of the ramshackle house turned out to be much more comfortable than its exterior would suggest, as was the norm for wizarding abodes. The room the door opened up into would not have looked out of place as a living room in an upper-class home, and was in fact bigger than the entirety of the building it was disguised as. Prepared for it as he was by his myriad experiences with the wizarding world, Harry was not surprised.

"Magecraft," Saber stated, looking around in mild surprise.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged, "but it's nothing special from what I've been told. Just a couple of Illusion Charms to make the outside look different. The real house looks nothing like this one."

Saber made no response but inclined her head, a gesture of acknowledgement.

The living room was sparsely furnished, but tastefully for all that. A finely-carved wooden table sat between the walls of brick and mortar, accompanied by equally finely-carved wooden chairs. There was a fireplace set into the west wall, currently nothing but crumbling logs and ash.

"Nice house." Harry commented.

"There are worse places to take repast." Saber agreed.

The door set into the east wall opened, and Krum peeked out from behind it. "In here," he grunted, and shut the door again.

Saber favored Harry with a deliberate look. The wizard shook his head in exasperation. "Don't give me that look. Sure, he isn't all that pleasant but he's not out to get us."

The king of knights did not answer. Harry sighed and pushed the door open, walking into what was apparently the shack's kitchen. Though much smaller than the living room and taken up with cabinets and sinks, it possessed a homely feel that reminded him of the kitchen at the Burrow.

Krum was seated at the kitchen table, elbows resting on the wood in blatant defiance of the sacred kitchen rule. He looked haggard, worn, and surly - though the last was no different from how he usually looked- and was currently eating an apple, methodically working his way around its surface.

Harry took the chair across from him, slumping into the cushioned back with some relief. Saber moved to his right, standing erect and upright beside him, hands empty at her sides but eyes regarding Krum with suspicion.

_Exactly like a knight guarding her king. _Harry sighed, covered a hand with his eyes. _I don't need this right now; whatever Krum has to say__,__ it's going to give me indigestion. Might as well get this out of the way first._

"Saber," He noticed Krum sit up a little at the unusual name, "sit down." Predictably, she stiffened, shooting him a reproachful glare. He twitched his left hand in what he hoped was a suitably subtle warning and raised one eyebrow.

_I _will _use it, so help me god. There'll still be two left._

Saber's own eyebrows jerked almost comically, and the redoubled glare she sent at him would have spurred Snape to take notes. Harry held her stare as calmly as he could, forcing himself to blink normally. Across the table, Krum's own eyebrows joined the club as they nearly reached his hairline.

When Harry felt certain his eyes would implode, Saber huffed and pulled out the closest seat between him and Krum, pushing it out so that it was in her former position, and sat down, crossing her arms. Harry shrugged; that was the best he was going to get.

"So," he began, staring at Krum, "I'm glad you found me, since I was about to die and everything, but why aren't you back in Bulgaria and how the hell do you know where Order safehouses are?"

The Durmstrang student shrugged. "I did not haff enough time to go home after Fleur's wedding. You-Know-Who's dogs vere everywhere, hunting down all who vould oppose him. The Order helped me escape, but asked that I help them in their operations." He shrugged again. "One of those operations vas the ascertainment of your whereabouts and your subsequent retrieval."

Harry had not pegged him for the kind of person to pay back debts in this kind of manner, but he had never really known Krum well. It would do him a disservice to treat him like that when at the most they had only exchanged a few words.

"How'd you find me?"

"A Location Charm," Krum replied. "fueled by one of your hairs that the Order had kept for this purpose. However, it vos a difficult journey, and more than once I had to avoid squads of Death Eater and Ministry officials also looking for you. It did not help that you seemed to be moving vildly and at random."

Harry chuckled nervously. "Yeah...that was Hermione's idea. She thought it would throw off pursuers."

Krum abruptly leaned forward, a strange light kindling in his eyes. "Where is Her-my-ow-ninny?" The words came out not in his normal flat monotone, but with an almost desperate quality to them. "She vos vith you, vas she not?"

_So that's his reason. I shouldn't be surprised. What was Saber saying about a friend of a friend? I should have guessed; out of the three of us Hermione was the only one Krum knew well enough to come after._

He knew his thoughts were cynical, and really could not bring himself to care. Krum was a student of Durmstrang, which was renowned as a school that, while not necessarily Dark, certainly taught its students more pragmatism and cunning than most other people were comfortable with. Of course Krum could care less about the well-being of Britain; from his point of view Voldemort was not his problem. His only concern was the girl that he might have developed feelings for.

"We had a disagreement," he drawled lazily, watching mild surprise flicker across the Bulgarian's face, "and she ran off with her new boyfriend. Sorry to disappoint you, but she's taken now."

Krum's reaction was interesting; his mouth tightened and thin eyebrows narrowed over his brow line, but otherwise he still looked completely uninterested. That created an intriguing contrast with the heat in his tone when he spoke again.

"She vould not do something like that. She is loyal to her friends."

The laugh that came out of Harry's mouth could barely be recognized as such; it sounded so harsh and cold that it was more of a bitter cackle.

"That's what I thought too, but faced between helping bring down the Dark Lord and snogging a git with half a brain, guess what she chose?" He spread his arms and leaned back in his chair, feeling a vindictive satisfaction as Krum's mouth turned downward into a true scowl.

"I do not believe you-"

"She's not here, is she?" Harry made a show of looking around, a mocking smile on his lips. "I don't see her, do you?"

Krum said nothing, but his dark eyes bored into Harry's green ones with an intensity he had never displayed before. Harry met it calmly, smirking as he watched Krum's facial muscles tighten and contort subtly.

_Go on, try something. I'd welcome it right now-_

A soft hand laid itself on his arm, but the grip it exerted was one of steel.

"Harry." Saber's voice was cold and unyielding. "Stop. Bickering will only feed your anger and solve nothing."

The wizard whirled out of his seat, attempting to shake the king of knights' grip, but the hand remained locked around his arm. "No, but it'll make me feel better-"

"And should I take the flat of my sword to your head you will feel quite a lot worse." Despite being nearly a head shorter than him, and still seated besides, Saber's emerald eyes were no less intimidating. "You think I jest? I do not."

Harry threw one last impotent glare at her, then took a deep breath and sat back down, already feeling like the world's biggest jerk. He drew a hand across his eyes, closing them for one brief second, then opened them again, focusing on Krum's surly face.

"Look, I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Forget about it – no, on second thought remember it so you can tell me next time I'm being a git."

Surprise flashed across Krum's features, followed by a curt nod.

"I vos out of line as vell. I offer my own apologies."

It was Harry's turn to blink. _Huh. That's...unexpected._

"I vos assigned by Shacklebolt to find you," The Bulgarian continued, as if nothing had happened, "and bring you to the nearest safehouse. I haff already contacted him; he will come here tomorrow to talk vith you."

"Is that safe?" Harry wondered. "He's high-profile in the Ministry, won't he be missed?"

Krum waved away the concern. "He is one of the most skilled Aurors in the Ministry. He vill haff no problem slipping away under the noses of the fools who are now in charge."

Harry raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Kingsley's great, yeah, but what about V-"

"Do not speak his name." Krum cut him off calmly. "There is a Taboo on the words. They vill find you if you speak his name. It vos clever of them, really. The only ones who vould ever say his name vere the only ones who opposed him."

"Wait." Harry blinked again. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "You're saying they put a curse on his _name?_"

"Not a curse." Krum examined one hand idly. "Simply a tracking spell, to tell them of the location of whoever has spoken the name. You did not know this, so I assume your run in with the Death Eaters vos a result of speaking his name idly. I vould advise you kick the habit. This cottage has wards and spells for defense, but the Taboo would bypass them even so. It is a powerful piece of magic. You-Know-Who must haff performed it himself."

_So that's why..._How many times had he spoken Voldemort's name out loud, unaware of the spell on it? No wonder the Death Eaters had tracked him down so quickly; he had named the Dark Lord at least twice to Saber.

In one way, that was a relief; at least they had not managed to place a tracking spell on him.

Krum checked the watch on his wrist. "It is late. Ve should rest." With that, the Bulgarian wizard rose to his feet in a swish of robes and exited through the north door, calling over his shoulder.

"The bedrooms are through this door. There are only two, unfortunately, so you and I vill haff to share one, vhile your friend receives the other."

"That is unacceptable." The blond fixed Krum with a steady stare. "I will be sharing a room with Harry. You may have the other one to yourself."

Krum returned the look for a few moments, then shrugged. "As you vish." He left, robes swirling around him as the door shut.

Saber rose from her chair, dress fluttering around her. "He is right. We should get some sleep."

"Yeah, uh, right." The British wizard pulled himself to his feet, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Look, Saber, about earlier...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that...I guess I'm still a little sore about the whole thing."

She gave him a level look. "It is understandable, but you should not dwell on it. Anger will fester if hidden and nurtured for too long. It corrupts as surely as power does." The mask of the knight softened suddenly, and a sympathetic glint appeared in green eyes. "You have been through much, Harry. It was probably for the best that you released it now, no matter how undeserving this Krum may have been of it."

Harry shook his head slowly. "People already get enough crap they deserve, let alone the stuff they don't. Krum's already dealing with a lot of crap right now - he fell for Hermione pretty good – so he doesn't need me spitting hate at him for something that's not his fault. Even," he sheepishly rubbed his head, "if it felt good at the time."

The warmth in Saber's eyes expanded, and her mouth curved into a full, genuine smile – the largest he had seen from her yet. "You are a good person, Harry." Harry felt his own mouth twitch.

"However," here the smile did not change, but something in her eyes shifted, "your threat to use a Command Spell in order to force me to sit does not become a good person. I believe we should discuss this."

Harry sighed, pulling a hand over his face. "Uh, can we talk about this later?"

"No." The king of knights continued to smile, but now it was considerably chillier than it had been before. "What could possibly possess you to waste one of your most powerful tools? Perhaps I was not clear."

Saber's speech had all the characteristics of a rant, or at least a coming-on one; long accustomed to History of Magic lectures and S.P.E.W. sermons, Harry knew what to do.

"The Command Spell can compel a Servant to do anything. It can even warp the laws of physics if the command is within reason-"

_I wonder how Fred and George are doing with the shop? They probably won't be in real trouble, but you never know with those Death Eaters._

"-my Master once used it to summon me immediately to his side over a distance of some kilometers-"

_Speaking of Weasleys, I hope Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are alright. They're probably worried sick about Ron and Hermione and I...'course there's nothing to be worried about regarding Ron and Hermione...they're probably back at home already eating Mrs. Weasley's cooking..._

Unbeknownst to him, his eyes glazed over, and his mouth began to water.

"-it can make a single blow more powerful than it would be otherwise and - Harry, are you listening to me?"

"Huh-?" Harry's daydream of eating a bowl of onion soup imploded, and he was brought back to the present. "Oh, right, yeah."

A vein twitched in Saber's temple. "Harry, your behavior is inexcusable-"

Harry suppressed a sigh and resisted the urge to close his eyes. _My god__,__ this is almost as bad as Binns-_

_Thwack._

Something thumped him on the head, and he leaped to his feet. "Ow! What was that for!" Saber drew back her fist.

"Pay attention!"

"Yes, my lord!"

_Thwack._

* * *

Kingsley came several hours later, long after the sun had dipped below the distant hills and night had fallen over the wooded clearing.

Harry had just managed to convince Saber that he had been paying attention through each of the lectures she had delivered and yes, he now knew exactly how important a Command Spell was to his well-being, when the door opened.

Krum was standing in the hallway when Saber opened the door, his lips pressed together tightly and his eyebrows angled like thunderbolts over his dark eyes.

"Shacklebolt is in the living room. He is not alone." With that, the Bulgarian wizard swept away, nondescript brown robes billowing in his wake, and leaving Harry to ponder his words.

"It can't be good if he looks like somebody rammed something up his arse." He commented idly. At his side, Saber nodded silently and rose. Her body shimmered, armor forming over her dress into the gauntlets, breastplate, and skirt-plates. Wind began to blow in the chamber, causing clothes and hair to ripple. While Excalibur was still sheathed in its guard of air, the source of the wind was clearly Saber's hand.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Saber." Harry regarded the invisible sword with some trepidation. "They're going to think you don't like them."

"Your tale gives me no reason to do so." The Servant replied stiffly. Harry sighed.

_We're not going to get anywhere. Shouldn't keep them waiting, anyway. I dunno if Ron and Hermione really are there, but Kingsley hasn't done anything to me, and he's pretty much the leader of the Order now. I should be respectful._

"Look, at least put it away." Harry made one last attempt to control the situation. "If they so much as sneeze, you can have it in your hand before they finish."

Saber gave him a narrow stare, then nodded slightly. The wind died down as Saber's hand opened. As Harry felt his hair return to its (admittedly wild) normal state, she crossed her arms. "Will that suffice?"

"Yeah, thanks." The Chosen One sighed, then took a deep breath and straightened out his robes. "Come on, then. Shouldn't keep the leader of free Britain waiting."

* * *

Krum was right. Kingsley was in the living room, sitting in one of the chairs, and he was not alone. The people he had brought were also seated, ringed around the table, but as he walked in everyone turned, allowing him to see their reactions.

Remus Lupin was just as gaunt as Harry had seen him last, and his face was even more lined with care and worry. Silver and gray hairs mingled quite noticeably with brown, giving him the general look of a homeless bum getting on in years, yet there was a peace about him, a calm air that was new. Relief played across his face as Harry walked in, followed by mild surprise as he laid eyes on the diminutive armor-clad girl that trailed his former student into the room.

Nymphadora Tonks Lupin sat next to her husband, hand twined tightly with his. Her hair was back to its vivid, shocking pink; her eyes were bright and happy. Harry felt a strange mixture of guilt and satisfaction: his parting accusations had apparently had some kind of effect, but he could not forget their bitterness, nor the tortured look on Remus' face as he strode away from Grimmauld Place.

_No, _he thought grimly, _I'm not a good person._

Personality-wise, Tonks had not changed; she sprang up as he entered the room and entrapped him in a bear hug. Harry grunted as her arms closed around his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Saber tense, but shook his head minutely and returned the embrace. Something pressed into him, and he belatedly noticed his arms were not as far around Tonks as they should have been. He looked down, and with a start he realized the Auror's belly was slightly distended.

"Wotcher, Harry." Tonks grinned when they broke the hug. She studied him, looking his body up and down. "You don't look half bad for someone stuck in the wild."

"It wasn't that long." Harry replied. "I cheated, anyway. Left the forest, found a little town, got chased by Death Eaters, then found by Krum and taken here."

"So I heard," Tonks looked away from him, focusing on the lithe blonde standing in his shadow. "Who's your friend?" She nodded politely to Saber, who responded with a curt nod back. The Auror leaned in close to Harry, stage-whispering into his ear. "She doesn't seem to like me."

"Eh...it's a really long story, on both counts. Mind waiting until Kingsley asks?"

"Sure." Tonks breezed. "Sounds interesting."

"Oh, you have no idea." Harry chuckled ruefully. "It's good to see you again, Tonks. How're things going with Remus?"

Tonks managed a blush, a giggle, and a grin all at the same time, which was answer enough. Harry nodded at her belly, eliciting another blush, and gave her a smile. "I'm happy for you." The pink-haired Auror promptly treated him to a one-armed hug, then walked somewhat more sedately back off to her seat.

The last two members of Kingsley's party stood up together, and Harry felt his mouth twitch into an unconscious frown. He also noticed Krum, until now standing silently near the wall, look up and move slightly forward, his face conspicuously blank. Since his default expression was a scowl, it spoke volumes of his feelings on the current situation.

Ronald Weasley did not attempt to hide his feelings, scowling at both Krum and Harry in equal measure. His hands were at his sides, twitching occasionally as if he wanted to wrap them around the other two teenagers' throats.

By his side, Hermione Granger smiled uncertainly at them, hands clasped together nervously. Harry chanced a look at Krum's face in time to see him briefly clench his teeth. Hermione's smile faltered at that, while Ron's mouth curled. Saber prowled up to his side, staring impassively at the duo.

The impromptu staring contest was broken when Kingsley cleared his throat.

"I believe we have some business to take care of." His baritone was exactly as Harry remembered: low, deep, and reassuring. "But first, Harry, how are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Harry nodded. "A little tired, since we only got here a couple hours ago, but otherwise I'm fine. Thanks for sending Krum to look for me, by the way: he got me out of a tight spot." Reminded abruptly, he turned to the Bulgarian Seeker who was still staring blank-faced at Hermione and Ron. "I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life, so...thanks."

Krum swiveled his head to look back at him, then inclined it slightly. "You do not need to thank me. I vould not haff let them kill you in any case." He returned to staring at the other two teenagers, but his posture was slightly more relaxed than before.

_Huh. _Harry pondered that for a moment, then mentally shrugged and returned to look at Kingsley. The ebony-skinned Auror let a slight smile grace his lips, before returning to business.

"In any case, you appear to have picked up a new friend." He nodded at Saber, who returned the nod just as curtly as she had Tonks'. "Would you mind introducing us?"

Harry watched as the other wizards turned their full attention to Saber for the first time. Remus studied the girl knight curiously, eyes lingering on her armor. Tonks smiled at her. Hermione seemed to share Remus' curiosity, forgetting to look nervous as she stared intently.

Ron's reaction was the most dramatic, and the most surprising. His eyes flickered to Saber as if he had just noticed her, narrowed, then turned to Hermione, as if reassuring himself she was still there. Harry felt his own eyes narrow slightly in thought.

_Interesting reaction._

"Right, sure. You're...not going to believe this." He scratched the back of his head. "I still don't."

"Be that as it may, we have no choice but to believe almost anything you say." Remus offered a rueful grin. "Please. We're all ears."

Krum stirred, fixing his dark eyes on Harry's. "I vould be quite interested to hear this as well." He turned, addressing the room at large. "Vhen I arrived at the town Potter vos in, he vos under attack by a group of Death Eaters, but most of them had already been killed."

The statement had a palpable reaction; Kingsley turned a piercing stare on Harry, who shrank under its weight. Tonks was demanding to know if he had lost his mind and Remus' face took on a guilty cast. Hermione had gone pale, while a small smirk was present on Ron's lips.

"No." Krum's rebuke was delivered quietly, but it silenced the room as quickly as his previous words had incited it. "Potter vould not do such a thing, and in any case, the vounds vere not those of spells. The vounds vere clean, but not as clean as you vould expect a simple Cutting Charm to be, nor as ragged as say, a Severing Curse."

Harry was not as surprised by Krum's declaration of the deaths as he was by the Bulgarian's assertion that he would not be the cause of them, or anything like them. _He doesn't know me very well...where's he going with this?_

All eyes were now on him, and the blond knight at his side. He sighed.

"Okay. Right after Hermione, Ron, and I...parted ways, a bunch of Death Eaters found me, probably because of the Taboo, and I ended up in an abandoned temple-type building..."

* * *

Predictably enough, the room was as quiet as a tomb once he had finished his story. Kingsley stared thoughtfully at the wall, while Remus contemplated the hand currently enclosed in his wife's. Tonks, Hermione, and Ron continued to study Saber, who endured the continuing scrutiny stoically.

Krum had, sometime during the story, procured a seat near Tonks, across and turned away from Hermione and Ron. He had not seemed surprised at any point during the tale, merely nodding even at the recounting of Saber's appearance. Harry had carefully omitted any mention of Saber's true identity, only saying that she was apparently some kind of familiar he had inadvertently summoned. He thought he saw a slight twitch in her posture when he had said that, but she kept her peace.

"And then we came here." Harry concluded. His throat was parched, and he felt as if he was going to fall over. He wondered if they had water.

Krum got up from his seat and disappeared into the kitchen, returning momentarily with a glass. He pointed his wand at the cup and murmured, _"Aguamenti." _The cup filled with water, and he handed it to Harry.

"Thanks." He took a sip; the water was ice-cold and soothed his throat. Krum grunted and returned to his seat. An uncomfortable silence fell again, interrupted by Ron's cough.

"So you're saying she's immune to magic?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Every spell used on her just doesn't work. Somebody tried to Imperius her; that ended pretty badly for him."

"This could be the break we were waiting for." Remus looked up from his hands. "Even You-Know-Who will have a hard time killing her, no matter what kind of magic he can use. Once we pinpoint his location, we can hit him with everything we have. The war could be over."

"Hang on," Tonks cut in, "aren't we getting a little ahead of ourselves? The prophecy says Harry's part of this. I think we're gonna need him for any kind of operation."

Ron snorted."Why? Magic doesn't work on her, right? She can just bulldoze through the Death Eaters and cut off You-Know-Who's head. Then we're done."

"There are still four Horcruxes left." Harry said wearily. "The locket, the cup, something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's, and the snake. If Saber kills Vol – sorry, You-Know-Who before the Horcruxes are gone, he won't die."

"Still!" Ron was not to be dissuaded. "Even if he turns into some kind of shriveled husk thing, he'll be powerless! We can just lock him up somewhere."

"And risk him getting stronger with each year?" Harry countered. "He's one of the best wizards ever. _Ever, _Ron. If we throw him in a jail and forget about him, he'll eventually bust out or somebody will do it for him because he won't have the decency to just pass away and it'll be violence and murder all over again. He'll never lose his power base, because there'll always be pure-bloods wanting to get rid of the Muggle-borns. He _has _to die."

"I agree." Kingsley leaned back in his chair. "You-Know-Who deserves to die, and according to the prophecy, Harry can't live while You-Know-Who is still alive."

Harry drew in a breath. He had not thought Dumbledore would have told anyone else about the prophecy.

"Yeah, I'd like to continue living if it's not too much trouble." He remarked dryly. Kingsley, Tonks, and Lupin laughed. Krum chuckled. Even Hermione managed a smile. Only Ron remained stone-faced. Harry still had not figured out why Ron was so hostile. He, Harry had been wronged, not Ron, and so why the Weasley insisted on being so antagonistic still escaped him. The only thing he could think of was that it had something to do with Hermione.

"How's Hogwarts, by the way?" he asked, hoping to hear something about Ginny. "Is everyone still alright?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, to Harry's mild surprise. "Ron and I haven't gone back, but we've gotten news. Ginny, Neville, and Luna are doing all they can to muck up Snape's tenure as Headmaster, and they're driving the Carrows mad, by all reports." She smiled. "And yes, she's all right."

A weight lifted from Harry's shoulders as he heard those words. Ginny was alright and still fighting. Neville and Luna too; the Longbottom had grown on him through their six years as students together, and the Ravenclaw's strange perspective was refreshing and amusing.

"That's great." He smiled. "Anything else I should know?"

Kingsley nodded. "A lot has changed since the wedding." He cast a significant glance at Harry. "You-Know-Who has solidified his power base; he's got his puppet Pius Thicknesse as Minister of Magic. The Death Eaters are in charge now and they've started rounding up halfbloods and Muggle-borns to check if they've 'stolen' their magic." He snorted in disgust. "Everything's gone to hell in a handbasket. Everyone who can't provide some connection to a pure-blood family is being taken in for questioning. It's considered sport to torture and kill Muggles now, and the Ministry isn't doing anything about it. You're still Public Enemy Number One, though; that hasn't changed. The Death Eaters are still looking for you, and so are the Aurors. The former are more honest about their intentions."

Having concluded this sobering speech, he looked around, meeting every person's gaze. "What we really need to decide is, where do we go from here? What's our game plan?"

"You don't already have one?" Harry raised an eyebrow. Dumbledore had always had plans, had always mapped out their next course of action. The old Headmaster was never without some kind of contingency, and would have made an excellent chess player, or even a politician.

"I'm not Dumbledore." The African Auror said sadly. "I don't have the benefit of his mind or all the years of his experience, and he didn't see fit to leave any information concerning whatever plans he may have had. As far as I can tell, our goal is to destroy these Horcruxes – which I don't know much about, only that they need to be gone - then move on You-Know-Who once he's vulnerable."

He took a deep breath, then continued. "But also because I'm not Dumbledore, I'm not going to make this your battle as well. You're still young, you four. You, Ron and Hermione should be finishing up your last year at Hogwarts, and Viktor, you should be winning games for the Bulgarian team. I respected Dumbledore, but no one was off-limits to him. He would do whatever he could to stop You-Know-Who without sinking to his level, and if that required using underage wizards to foil his plans, well, he considered it a good deal."

"I'm not backing out, if that's what you're asking." Ron said fiercely. "I'm already caught up in this, and so's my family. I'll fight."

"So will I." Hermione's response was quieter than Ron's, but no less steadfast. "We owe it to Professor Dumbledore to finish what he started."

When Kingsley's gaze shifted to Krum, the Bulgarian paused for a moment, then nodded his head. "You-Know-Who vill not stop vith Britain. He vill not stop until he has the vorld in his grasp. I vill help as best I can."

Harry felt a stab of guilt as Krum finished. He had assumed Krum had joined the Order just to woo Hermione, but now, with any attempt at winning her heart gone, he was continuing to risk his life far from home, surrounded by strangers.

_I misjudged him. _He thought miserably. _I'm doing that a lot lately._

"Harry? What about you?"

Kingsley's question jarred him from his stupor. He looked up, blinking stupidly. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you going to continue the fight? It's you I'm the most worried about. You're the one with a sword hanging over your head, but it's _your _life. I'm not going to force you to continue, but you should know that without you, we're probably not going to win. Prophecies are tricky and treacherous, but also usually right-"

"I'll fight." Harry interrupted the Auror. "You-Know-Who's a monster. He's killed so many people and ruined so many lives. I owe it to all of them: my parents, Professor Dumbledore, Cedric, everyone...if I'm the only one who can kill him, it would be irresponsible and selfish to try to escape from this when I'm an integral part of this situation."

Kingsley exhaled in relief. "Good...I didn't really think you'd leave, but I had to be sure. So now, where do we go from here?"

Saber's soft voice sounded from Harry's side; he looked at her in surprise, almost having forgotten that she was there. "If Harry is to defeat this Dark Lord, he must get stronger than he is currently. He tells me the Dark Lord and his servants are very skilled in magecraft, so he must increase his own knowledge and skill to match theirs."

"That might be a bit of a problem." Remus' tone was gentle and respectful, despite Saber's statement being patently ridiculous. "You-Know-Who has many years on Harry, and he's learned magic none of us can, or even are willing to, teach. Harry's one of the most gifted students I have ever had the honor to teach, but the only one who could ever match the Dark Lord in a duel was Albus Dumbledore."

Saber was not dissuaded. "Then he must gain an ability that they do not."

Kingsley smiled slightly. "What do you have in mind?"

"I will teach him to use a sword."

Ron barked out a laugh. "Harry Potter, the Wizard Knight? I have to see this. You do know the 'Chosen One' doesn't know the first thing about a sword, right?"

Saber turned to look him in the eye for the first time, sending him a withering glance. "Unless you have something meaningful to contribute, I would suggest being silent."

Ron subsided, muttering. Saber returned to regard Kingsley and Remus, subjecting the two Order members to her intense gaze.

"As I said, I will teach him how to fight. However, I do not have enough time to make a true knight of him, and I cannot teach him your magecraft. It is an imperfect solution at best."

"That's true," Remus mused, "but if you did have the time, I'd say that wasn't a half-bad idea. The Death Eaters are a pretty proud lot, and arrogant too. They wouldn't think a wizard crazy enough to use a sword against spell-flinging opponents would pose much of a threat. Apparition would let him stick a sword in their backs pretty easily, once he'd gotten their guard down."

Saber tilted her head. "Apparition?"

"It's essentially teleportation," Remus explained, "where a wizard can move from one place to another instantaneously. More experienced wizards can use it to travel moderate distances, but it's also used in duels to dodge spells that can't be blocked or otherwise avoided. However, too much use strains the body and can result in limbs or body parts being removed or misplaced." The former professor looked inquisitively at Harry. "You can Apparate now, can't you? I'd advise you to keep it in mind, but remember the danger of Splinching."

Harry winced; he'd seen Splinching before. "Yeah...definitely want to avoid that."

Kingsley looked up from where he'd been pensively staring at the floor. "I may have a solution to the problem of time...but let's say that I do, and Saber, how much time would you need to train him adequately?"

Saber considered. "It takes many years to make an adequate warrior. A boy would be trained from a young age, around ten or eleven, until they were approximately eighteen-to-twenty-one."

Harry winced. "Somehow, I'm not sure we have that much time."

"Indeed. However, if we focused purely on swordsmanship...I would assume a few years at the very least to make him proficient. However, he will not be required to fight any duels, so half a year would suffice." She paused. "A knife would be better-suited for this style of fighting, if one can be procured, but the drills used to teach swordsmanship would be useful exercise to elevate him to an acceptable level of fitness."

Remus was nodding in agreement. "Harry suffered from malnutrition and lack of exercise for the first eleven years of his life. If-" he shared a significant glance with Kingsley, "Kingsley is suggesting what I think he is, you should have enough time to whip him into shape; physically, anyway."

Harry looked back and forth between them, confused. Exactly what Kingsley had in mind to alleviate the problem of time escaped him. As far as he could tell, they could not train him sufficiently in time to defeat Voldemort, no matter how long or how hard they worked him.

Hermione seemed to share his confusion. "I'm not sure I understand-"

"Remember what Minerva gave you in your third-year?" Remus interrupted. "The special tool meant purely for your own studies and never to be shown to anyone else?"

The bibliophile looked puzzled for a moment, then her eyes widened in realization and her hand flew to her mouth.

"But h-how did you know, Remus?"

"You didn't think Minerva would keep such a secret all to herself, did you?" Remus laughed.

"I thought the Ministry's supply was destroyed, though?"

"Yes, thanks to you." Kingsley's smile took the sting out of the words. "But something that's not well-known is that high-ranking Aurors have their own supply. The average wizard doesn't really know that in addition to being law enforcers, we're also detectives. Magic, though, makes it harder to track down criminals, especially if they're smart. If they think everything through, they can wipe away all the traces of their ," he shrugged, "sometimes the only thing we can do is turn back the clock."

Then, Harry finally got it. "You're talking about a Time-Turner."

"That vould make sense." Krum grunted. "It is the only reliable time-traveling device known to vizardkind." He paused in thought. "Yes, that vould suit our purpose. Potter can double or triple the time he spends training, if he is careful."

Kingsley nodded. "Used sparingly, the Time-Turner can make two days out of one. Harry can complete a day of training and then rewind the day to do it all over again. Since the Time-Turner takes people back in time, your body will continue to reap the benefits of the training. Excuse me." The Auror coughed. "However, the Time-Turner isn't that robust. You should only use it once per day to rewind the day, and then wait until the end of the next day to use it again."

"Why doesn't he just rewind every month?" Ron asked.

"The Time-Turner can only reliably rewind a full day." Hermione responded, wearing the expression Harry had come to call her 'Lecture Face'. "It wasn't designed to go any farther. If you wound the hands back past two full rotations, there's no telling what would happen. I think there's a record of one wizard winding back the hand eight times and reappearing a minute before he traveled back. Fortunately he knew he was time traveling, so a paradox was avoided."

"In which case there shouldn't be an obstacle to using the thing, since your past selves should be fully aware of the Time-Turner." Kingsley replied.

"We are agreed, then." Saber murmured.

"There's still the matter of your magic." Remus raised a finger. "You'll need to firm up your grasp on spells. You've got a great practical command of Defense Against The Dark Arts, but you don't know much more than the standard spells taught to students. You can focus mostly on that, but you'll need at least some basic Mediwizard spells and I've always found Transfiguration to be useful."

"I can help vith that." Krum reclined in his chair. "I haff alvays had some skill in Transfiguration, and Durmstrang, vell..." he hesitated, seeming to struggle with himself, "...you know that they teach us how to use the Dark Arts." He cast a significant glance at Harry, who understood immediately what he was talking about. "If you are villing."

Kingsley nodded grimly. "That seems to be a wise course of action." A look of unhappiness flitted across Remus' face, but he nodded as well. "Better to have it done now so you can get used to it when it happens later." Tonks squeezed her husband's hand, and he smiled briefly at her.

Hermione's reaction was not so understanding. Her face paled, and she stood up slowly.

"You're going to curse Harry? With Dark Arts?" Her voice shook. Krum nodded wordlessly, and she pointed a trembling finger at him.

"Do you know...what could happen to him? Dark spells only work if you really want them to! You have to enjoy hurting people if you want to curse them! Are you telling me Durmstrang taught you how to do that?"

Krum simply nodded. "Yes," he replied, "I vos taught to do those things. However," his eyes hardened,"I vos also taught a vide variety of Mediwizard spells and counter-curses. I can repair broken bones, brew painkilling potions, and counter the vast majority of curses."

"That's not the point!" Blood was rushing to Hermione's face, turning her cheeks red. "Don't you understand the effects of using Dark Magic! That kind of spell requires you to really _feel _what you're doing! Too much of that and you'll be a Dark Wizard in no time!"

_Where did that come from? _Harry wondered belatedly, his thoughts moving sluggishly. Hermione was usually thoughtful or exasperated; true anger was uncommon for her, and anger at Krum even less: she usually defended him from Ron's jealous remarks. _Is she worried about me? _

The Bulgarian Seeker looked as if he had been punched in the stomach. His mouth tightened even more, eyes narrowing to slits, and at his sides his hands clenched into fists. When he spoke, Harry had to lean forward to hear his words, and the pain within them.

"I know full vell vhat I am getting into." The words came out in a hiss. "A Dark Lord killed my grandfather. I hate the Dark Arts. I despise them. Vhen the professor announced he was going to be teaching us the Dark Arts, I almost hexed him. Every time I use them, I feel like I am going to vomit. The only reason I learned them vos so I could ensure I vould know my enemy and never again lose anything I cared about to them. The only reason I was even able to use them was because those I imagined inflicting pain and suffering on vere those who practiced them. I swore to myself during my lessons that I vould never use the Dark Arts outside Durmstrang, but your false professor forced me to break that vow. And now, with an unstoppable madman and his army of lunatics on the loose, I thought I vould use this knowledge to help the only person who can stop him. I thought that you, of all people, vould understand that knowledge is power. I thought that you, of all people, vould trust in me, vould believe that I know vhat I am doing. Obviously, I thought wrong."

Hermione's face had been losing its color during the speech, and when Krum finished, she looked as if he had slapped her. "Viktor...I-I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

Krum said nothing.

Kingsley cleared his throat uncomfortably. "You two can settle that between yourselves later. I don't want to stay out too long and risk Ministry suspicion, so let's wrap this up. We agree that to beat You-Know-Who, Harry needs to undergo intensive magical training and physical conditioning. We need to find a place that You-Know-Who won't think to look for him – not here, it might have been compromised - and I have a few ideas; I'll leave you a list, but it's best that you don't tell me so I can't give you up if I'm compromised. Right, the only thing left is to decide who's going with him." Remus opened his mouth, but the Auror cut him off. "I'm sorry, Remus, but you're not one of the options. We need you here, both because you're one of the best fighters we have and your...condition. There's a full moon coming up."

The former professor looked dismayed. "But it's because of that I should go with them! I can provide protection in case they're attacked-"

"You need not worry on that count," Saber interrupted. "I swore on my sword that I would keep Harry safe, and that would extend to any companions he trusts to accompany him."

Kingsley clapped his hands, beginning to look annoyed. "As much as I'd like to discuss this more with you all, we're really running out of time. Obviously Saber will be going with him, and Viktor-"

"I vill go. I can teach him quite a few spells, though I vill need books-"

"I have you covered." Remus gestured back towards the kitchen. "I thought we'd be doing something like this, so I brought quite a few. Take care of them, will you? They cost me a pretty Galleon."

Krum nodded and continued, "There are also a few tricks I picked up to help me learn spells and magic faster. I can show him those as vell. And..." he hesitated, looking towards Harry again.

"Yeah." Harry was not particularly thrilled with the idea of being subjected to Dark spells, but it had been done to him before, and as a result he had discovered he was essentially immune to the Imperious Curse...when he was ready for it. "You think that'll help?"

The older Seeker looked down. "That vos how it vos taught to us."

"Right, anyone else?" Kingsley looked around. "Hermione, Ron?"

"Of course I'll-"

"Kingsley, can Hermione and I talk?" Harry interjected, before the bookish witch could finish. The Auror raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

"Don't take too long. I really need to be going."

"Right." He looked at Hermione. "Here, let's-"

"Hold on!" Ron stood up. "Whatever you've got to say, you can say it to me too."

"Perhaps Potter has something private to say to Hermy-own-ninny," Krum suggested laconically, not looking up from his feet. "It vould not become you to pry."

Ron whirled on him. "Listen here, you-"

"It's okay." Suddenly, Harry just wanted this all to be over. "Over here."

He ushered them into the kitchen, keenly aware of Saber's cold stare following them across the room, and closed the door behind them. Turning, he then leaned against the counter, observing his – former? – friends' expressions. Hermione looked, as she always had, worried. Ron simply looked angry, eyes flicking back and forth between the other two in the room.

"Hermione," Harry began, "I don't want you to come with me." He mentally slapped himself as soon as he had finished speaking.

_That sounded cold. _

Hermione's eyes widened, confusion and pain evident in those chestnut orbs, and he promptly felt like the world's biggest git. Ron's expression tightened, his posture tensing. He looked as if he was about to attack.

_Lovely, _Harry sighed in his head, _what a mess I'm making of things._

"Of course," the self-loathing in those two words was palpable, and guilt squeezed his heart, "it's about that. I really can't blame you, Harry. I left you when you needed help the most."

"Hermione-" Harry began again, at the same time Ron shouted, "It wasn't a mistake-"

"_Ron_," Hermione didn't raise her voice, but it was surprisingly firm, displaying none of the hesitancy present earlier. "Give us a minute."

The second-youngest Weasley stared at her, looking like he wanted to gnash his teeth. Just as Harry thought he would refuse, he turned abruptly and stormed away, muttering under his breath. The door thumped against its frame twice.

"He feels bad about it, you know." Hermione murmured. "He wanted to go back right after we left, but he didn't..." She looked up to meet his gaze. "It's my fault."

His heart leaped into his throat. "Hermione..."

"He's jealous of you, Harry. He always has been. You're the Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. You're the only person to ever stop You-Know-Who besides Dumbledore, and you're still only in your teens. He's been in your shadow from the day we first met."

He nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. The witch continued, her eyes beginning to glisten.

"And then, well...puberty happened, I guess, and it got worse. You know how Ron and I couldn't seem to talk without arguing, those days? I think he was jealous of how easy it seemed to be for you and I."

"We argued too, though." He pointed out. She laughed.

"Of course. Nobody's perfect. But as a rule, it must have seemed to Ron that you and I were closer than he and I. Can you imagine how grating that would be, that your two best friends were closer to each other than to you-" She stopped suddenly, flushing red on both cheeks. "Harry, I'm sorry-"

"Forget about it," he waved away her apology, thinking about what Saber had said. _Anger will fester if hidden and nurtured for too long. It corrupts as absolutely as power does._

Voldemort had been consumed by his mad desire for power. Had something similar happened to his best friend? Was there anything he could do about it? He tried to think of something, anything that would help even in the slightest, but the sluggishness that had taken root in his mind grew, and all he wanted to do now was sleep and forget his problems for the time being.

"I think you're right, Harry." Hermione's soft words brought him back to the conversation, as if he was surfacing from the depths of a pool. "It would do Ron good to be away from you for a while. I don't like it, but I understand...and I'll have to be there, to make him feel that there's nothing to be jealous about." She offered a tentative smile. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"Don't be." The words came automatically, without much inflection. "Are you two officially a couple yet?"

"No...not yet, but after all this, what else could we be?" Her smile turned bitter. "It's circumstance as much as anything, but...I do like him, and I feel we could be happy together. I just...didn't want it to turn out like this."

Silence fell between them for a long moment. "No," he finally replied, the word falling from his lips almost unconsciously, "none of us did." He looked up, realizing his gaze had fallen to her feet. "Congratulations." He dredged up enough strength to make the word carry warmth, and was rewarded by a sad smile.

"Thanks, Harry. It means a lot." She studied him seriously. "Do you think you'll be alright?"

"I'll be safer than we were when we went Horcrux hunting. This time I'll be in a safehouse warded and protected by better wizards than us, training intensely with the advantage of a Time-Turner." He tried to grin, and found that there was some emotion in the expression.

"I'll also be accompanied by an unstoppable warrior in the body of a teenager and the youngest Seeker to ever play Quidditch. I'll be fine."

Hermione's face, which had begun to lighten up, fell suddenly at the mention of Krum. "I really messed up back in there, didn't I? I was so torn up about leaving you to fend for yourself, and then one of my best friends offers to torture you with Dark Spells? I – I just lost it. I really hurt him."

Harry nodded silently, recalling one of the rare instances Krum had shown such blatant emotion. "He fell for you pretty well, too." He carefully did not mention the bitter argument that had taken place just hours before, between himself and the Bulgarian Seeker. "I'm not sure exactly why he's risking everything for us, but I think we can trust him."

"I know we can trust him," she said. "He's very loyal. If he went to Hogwarts, he probably would have been in Gryffindor."

"Krum as a housemate?" He laughed. "Malfoy would have been green with envy."

She laughed with him. "He would probably be envious of you now. The Chosen One and the youngest-ever Seeker together for months on end? Viktor's fangirls would kill to be in your place."

The laughter that followed was cathartic, and the weight on his eyelids seemed to fall away a little, until there was a quiet knock on the door and Kingsley stepped in.

"Have you decided yet, Harry? Ron and Hermione need to go back to the Burrow so Molly and Arthur don't kill themselves with worry." He hesitated. "I'll have to tell them the truth, Hermione. About what happened."

"If you don't mind, Ron and I will." Hermione's voice was soft but firm. "We made a mistake; it's our responsibility to confess it." She glanced at Harry. "We'll be sure to talk to Ginny for you."

The lump in his throat was back. "Thanks, Hermione. For everything."

She nodded, then without warning lunged forward and wrapped him in a bone-jarring hug. He rocked back on his feet for a second, then found his feet and returned the embrace just as fiercely. He heard footsteps as Kingsley retreated to give them privacy.

"Take care of Ron." He whispered near her ear.

"Take care of yourself." She returned.

* * *

The party assembled once again in the living room. Remus had been true to his word; piles of books were stacked up on the table, which Krum and Hermione were systematically chucking into one of the Charmed bags. Remus himself watched, a look of mild amusement on his face. Tonks sat nearby, hand resting innocently on her belly. Ron leaned against a wall, face strangely blank as he observed every move Krum and Hermione made. Saber stood stiffly and proudly at the opposite wall, watching Ron with just as much intensity.

Kingsley was sitting in the chair at the head of the table, turning something over in his hand. As Harry approached, he looked up, then got out of his chair and held out his hand. In the olive-browned palm was a familiar golden pocket watch, the long chain dangling out of the Auror's fingers.

"You remember how to use this, I assume?" He gestured at the dials. "Viktor can refresh your memory if you don't."

Harry took the Time-Turner from Kingsley's hand, conscious of the risk the Auror was taking by giving him this. "Thanks, Kingsley. I'll try to take care of it."

"I'd appreciate it if you did." The African wizard fished around in his robes. "One last thing," he pulled a worn piece of parchment out of his pocket, "this is a map of all the Order safehouses. It's a copy of the originaI; Dumbledore left them both to me."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it risky to have a map of all the safehouses? What if it fell into You-Know-Who's hands?"

Kingsley chuckled. "Dumbledore probably memorized the entire thing, but then again he was the only wizard who could fight off You-Know-Who, so it would have been unlikely for him to be captured. The maps were kept at Hogwarts as a backup; he probably didn't expect us to need them. Most of us have memorized the map now, but you're obviously going to need it. I suggest you burn it once you're done, since we probably won't need it by then." He pressed the parchment into Harry's hand.

The teenager slipped both Time-Turner and map into his pockets and nodded. "I understand."

"Right, then," Kingsley patted a hand down his robes, then nodded sharply. "We'll be going." He grasped Harry's hand in a firm handshake. "Good luck, Harry. Hopefully we'll see you again after you've finished your training. "

Harry could only nod in reply, conscious of how long a shot this entire enterprise was, and what would happen if they failed.

_The weight of the world is on my shoulders...for what, the seventh time? I don't even know anymore. They think being the Boy-Who-Lived is so hot? They should try being chased by a megalomaniac who can't die._

The goodbyes were brief. Handshakes were exchanged all around, last sentiments were whispered, and hugs given until Kingsley insisted it was time and his party left via Portkey.

Harry watched the five figures vanish into the night, and kept staring long after he could no longer see them. It felt like part of him went with them, because there were so many unresolved things that would have to remain unresolved until either Voldemort was dead or they were.

Not for the first time, he cursed the slit-nosed bastard for everything he had done and everything he would do if he wasn't stopped. Unlike the more literal curses, it did not have any perceivable effect, but it did make him feel a lot better once he was done.

Footsteps sounded behind him, as his two companions-turned-teachers walked to his sides. Their shadows formed in the light emanating softly from the inside of the shack, one tall and cadaverous, the other short and slender.

Krum examined the map. "I did not know there vere so many Order bases. The Order itself does not seem to haff many members, so vhy vould there be so many locations?"

Harry shrugged wordlessly. "They're all the same to me; pick one and we'll go tomorrow."

Krum gave him an exasperated look. "This is important, Potter. Ve cannot just make half-assed decisions; that vill be a quick vay to end up dead."

Saber's soft voice chimed in support. "He is right, Harry. This is a serious matter."

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. "All right, fine." He looked down at the map, but the words and illustrations seemed to blur before his eyes. One hand removed his glasses so that the other could swipe irritably at the offending organs. Once his glasses were replaced, he continued to stare at the parchment. Five minutes passed in this manner, until Krum let out a breath and planted one finger solidly in the middle of the map.

"Vhat about here?"

"...It's in the mountains."

"No one vill look for you there."

"Don't giants live in the mountains?"

"Training opportunities."

Harry must have looked horrified, because Krum snickered. "Joking. But no, I do not think giants live in these mountains. There is an Order base there for a reason." He arched an eyebrow. "Do you haff any other preferences?"

Saber leaned in before Harry could reply, scanning the map with an expert eye. "No, of these bastions the one in the mountains is most preferable. It is isolated and should provide a reasonable defensive position if we are attacked." One slender finger traced a line from the picture of the house, pausing at the only land route that led up to it. "If this is accurate, we are adequately defended from conventional assault, and should have enough time to retreat if the situation is untenable."

"I'm less concerned about a land attack then I am of an air one." Harry muttered, but Saber did bring up some good points. It would be hard to find them, especially since the cabin was undoubtedly protected by concealment and defensive spells that would make it practically invisible. Even if they were found, they would probably have ample warning and be able to effect an escape without problems.

"Sounds good. Tomorrow, then?"

The older wizard nodded. "Tomorrow."

"Saber, mind keeping watch for us?"

A nod was the king of knight's only response. Harry suppressed a yawn threatening to burst out from his lips and opened the door, holding it just long enough for Krum to slip in behind him. The last thing he saw before it closed was Saber's still form facing outward, standing like a sentinel between the dangers of the night and the haven of the cabin.

_Heh. Sentinel. I guess that's all she's been up until now, huh?_

And, comforted by that thought, Harry went to bed. It was the best sleep he had gotten in a long time, discounting those occasions where he had been forcibly relieved of his consciousness.

There were no visions tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

_Day Six (Three Days Since Arrival)_

_Thwack._

Harry fell back, robes flying and arms twisting desperately. The wooden blade in his hand blurred, meeting its kin again and again in a flurry of cracks and thumps. Distantly, he recognized he was holding up better than he had the last dozen times, but given that those had consisted of being disarmed almost immediately after beginning, that was hardly comforting.

"Up, Harry. Keep your guard _up." _Saber punctuated her remark with a vicious downward swing. Harry grunted as the practice blade was forced past his knees, and before he could fix his guard Saber hurled an iron-gauntleted fist into his stomach.

_Huh...when did I lie down-_

He blearily realized the blue above him was the sky, and that he was sprawled on his back, arms and legs flung about randomly. The snow settled down on him, wet and cold, soaking into his bare skin.

"Will someone get me the number of that train?" he croaked out. "I think it stole my lungs."

"You have improved, Harry." Armored boots smashed the snow into wet clumps as Saber's face appeared in his vision. "That is not much, however. You still hold your blade too tightly, and you _must _keep your weapon up."

"Eh..." he managed. "Right. I'll remember that next time."

Saber reached down with one hand, effortlessly hauling him up out of the snow. "'Next time' is now. We need to correct this." She offered him the practice sword, which he took reluctantly.

The practice weapon was more than the hunk of wood he had originally expected; after Saber's first attempts had snapped after two or three strokes, Krum had shaken his head, directed her to carve out another pair of branches, and Transfigured them into rough approximations of swords. Saber, of course, had taken umbrage with the results and had him continue altering the weapons until she was fully satisfied with the final products. Now each practice sword was a three-foot long replica of the real thing, only made from wood instead of steel.

Krum, Harry mused, was very good at Transfiguration.

Saber took a few steps back, steadying herself and bringing the sword up before her in her standard two-handed guard. Harry sighed and lifted his own, aching arms to duplicate her stance.

_This is going to be a long few months.._

* * *

_Day Eight (Four Days Since Arrival)_

"_Reducto."_

"_Protego!" _

A bang split the air, and Harry winced as light danced wildly off the hasty shield he had raised in front of him. Blinking furiously, he adjusted his glasses with his free hand as he looked frantically for Krum.

"_Incendio."_

Another bang sounded. Harry rolled instinctively, the snow he had just been standing in vaporizing in a shower of heat as flames roared up behind him. The spell left an orange trail through the air as it passed; the British teen jerked his wand out and howled, _"Stupefy!"_

Crimson light flared as it hurtled through the air. Krum deflected it with a negligent wave of his wand and intoned, "_Inumbro."_

A dark veil dropped across Harry's face, he clawed instinctively at the shadow, but felt his hand pass through it and contact skin and flesh. He let out a grunt of frustration.

"Dispel it," Krum said from somewhere behind him, "quickly. _Vomo."_

His stomach churned, and with a gasp he threw up, ejecting today's breakfast and lunch somewhere in front of him. He fell to his knees, choking.

_Have to cast a spell...nonverbally... _He tried the first one to come to mind. _Levicorpus!_

A short grunt told him it had worked. There was a whoosh of air as Krum was presumably whisked off his feet. _Right, now to stop dumping my guts-_

_Abluo! _For a beat, he wondered if the hasty nonverbal spell had worked, but his stomach stopped feeling like a washing machine, so he supposed it had. _"Abluo!" _The incantation, more familiar to him, quickly removed the veil from his eyes. He leaped to his feet, wand at the ready -

"_Crucio."_

Harry screamed as pain racked his body. He tried to keep his feet, but fire surged through his legs, and he fell again, this time face down in something soft, wet, and smelly.

_God damnit, did I just fall into a pool of my own vomit-_

"Enough."

The pain quieted, trembling relief slamming through his veins. A strong hand gripped his arm and hauled him up. _"Tergo." _Whatever portions of his meals that had managed to get on his face disappeared.

Krum stood before him, a thoughtful look replacing his usual scowl. "Not bad, Potter. I vos vinning until you used that nonverbal spell. It vos good that you used it to give yourself breathing room, but you took too long in dispelling the Shadow Charm and Vomiting Curse. I vould say that there is nothing vrong vith your reactions, but your repertoire of spells could use some vork. There is, for example, an easier vay to dispel ailments rather than casting the same spell twice."

Harry adjusted his glasses. "...yeah?"

A faint hint of a smile crinkled Krum's face. "Come on, Potter. Time to hit the textbooks."

Through years of exposure to Hermione, Harry suppressed the urge not to groan.

Barely.

* * *

_Day Twelve (Six Days Since Arrival)_

_The Deathwind Curse is a very powerful Dark Spell that creates a vortex of raging winds. These winds will scour the flesh off any organism that enters the vortex. Once contacted by the winds, the flesh will begin to shred off the affected area, continuing until the area is stripped down to the bone. The curse will also spread through the target's body, making it incredibly dangerous. There is no defense against this spell, though the vortex can be interrupted before it is fully formed by a variety of spells, including Ventus or Aguamenti. A variant of this curse involves sending a single blade of wind as a projectile, which possesses all the properties of the vortex..._

Harry closed _The Dark Arts of Durmstrang, _feeling rather queasy. The textbook was Krum's, having passed to Harry upon commencement of the training with the Bulgarian seemingly glad to be rid of it. Since perusing its pages, Harry understood why that might be.

"Yes," Krum appeared at Harry's elbow, as if from underneath an Invisibility Cloak, "that vos my reaction too."

The younger wizard yelped and jumped in his chair, banging his thighs against the table's underside. "Could you not do that, Krum? I'm gonna need some Mediwizard spells at this rate."

Krum did not reply, but looked slightly sheepish.

"So, you haff read the spells assigned for today?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered. He gave Krum a suspicious glance. "You're not going to cast the Deathwind Curse on me, are you?"

The Bulgarian paled. "Of course not. There is only one potion that can remove its effects, and it requires months of brewing under extremely strict conditions." He paused. "I vill, however, ask you to attempt to cast it. It is one of the more difficult Dark Curses, but Dark spells require complete mastery to be used effectively. If you know how to cast it, it vill be easier to resist."

"Am I going to have to imagine peeling off somebody's skin to cast this thing?" Harry asked wryly, raising an eyebrow. Krum hesitated.

"That vos how they taught us, yes."

"What are we even going to test it on?"

Ten minutes later, they stood outside, watching a rabbit hop happily around the clearing.

"...I hope no one was using that cup."

Krum raised his wand.

"_Mors Ventis." _The Bulgarian's brow furrowed, eyes narrowing and darkening. Sudden hate filled his eyes, and he snarled. _"MORS VENTIS!"_

Something in the air shifted, the clearing's atmosphere growing heavier, more oppressive...darker. Despite the clear light of the sun shining down on the snowy ground, it felt as if that light was traveling through a veil to get here, a shroud that only seemed to strengthen with the passing seconds. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold lifted Harry's hackles.

Slowly, as if reluctant, the winds began to gather in the middle of the clearing. Harry was mildly surprised that they had a color, a tattered gray similar to that of his Invisibility Cloak or a funeral shroud. The rabbit stopped, ears cocked, and turned as if to study the strange gusts of air. It was a fatal mistake.

The vortex began to move, and as it did so one of its outer edges brushed the rabbit. The effect was immediate; the rabbit let out a squeak of terror and bounded away, but even as it did so its hind legs began to shrivel off, fur and skin flaking away from the body in ever-increasing amounts, until it had all been stripped away. Blood burst from the wounds as the rabbit's furious motion only served to exacerbate the rate of blood loss, turning the snow crimson as chunks of meat sloughed off at a fantastic pace.

Soon, only bone remained, and without muscles capable of locomotion the rabbit fell into the snow, twitching as the curse worked over the rest of its body.

Harry watched the entire process, aghast.

_This...this is true Dark Magic...how could they teach students - kids to do things like this?_

He whirled on Krum, a demand for an explanation on his lips, but it died out as soon as he saw the other man's condition. The Bulgarian was gasping for air, face clenched and oddly pale, with his wand hand still outstretched but trembling hard.

"Whoa, Krum...are you all right?" Harry peered concernedly at Krum's eyes; they were almost completely dilated, the pupils barely visible.

Krum made no sound, instead swaying on his feet. Harry quickly steadied him before he could fall into the snow. "Hey, hey! Don't go dying on me yet. Oi, Saber! Gimme a hand!"

A streak of blue flashed out from the cabin, slamming the door so hard it rebounded against the adjacent wall. Saber appeared at Harry's side, quickly taking Krum from him and lifting the much-taller man over her shoulder without the faintest sign of straining.

"Take him inside, put him on the couch." Harry instructed. Saber responded with a curt nod, then darted through the still-swinging porch door.

The rabbit's corpse still lay in the snow, steaming in the frigid air. Harry padded up to it, watching as blood continued to flow, turning the pristine white an ugly red.

_That...was horrible. And he wants me to cast it? It nearly knocked him out!_

Finally, Harry realized this was the kind of thing he was going up against. Voldemort and his minions would not restrict themselves to just Stunners. This kind of spell would fit perfectly in the Death Eater's arsenal; he was lucky they hadn't already used it on him. There were certain to be more spells just as nasty as this one, and probably some even worse - why had the Ministry only branded three Curses as Unforgivable? This one was right up there with them, probably even worse since it looked as painful as the Cruciatus and killed just as surely as Avada Kedavra. Exactly what kind of place was Durmstrang where they taught teenagers how to use these curses?

Harry studied the sad, shrunken body for a few more moments, then turned on his heel and returned to the cabin.

Krum was lying on the couch when he returned, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand. Saber stood at his side, far enough away to give him space but close enough to intervene if something happened.

"Potter," Krum acknowledged him as Harry stepped through the door, "I apologize for that, and for not varning you of this possibility." He grimaced. "I forgot to mention the toll Dark Curses take on those who do not villingly give themselves to evil."

Harry sat down in one of the living room's armchairs, directly opposite from his companions, and frowned. "Wait...this kind of thing happens often?"

Krum nodded. "Magic relies heavily on emotion. To cast a Dark Spell requires you to experience the vilest of human emotions and to sink to the foulest depths of your psyche. Hate, lust, jealousy...all of these are integral to using the Dark Arts." He took in a shuddering breath, drawing Harry's attention to his still-bloodless face. "It is possible to cast the Dark Arts vithout giving in to the darkness, but it is very hard on those who vould do so. It is hard to maintain yourself, especially vith some of the darkest spells." He pulled himself up and leaned forward, dark eyes intent on Harry's. "The Unforgivables are not the vorst of the Dark Arts; not by far. They are the simplest of their kind, granting control, pain, and death, but those are simple. There are spells that turn their victims into shriveled-out husks, forcing them to experience every second of it, or stimulate the nervous system so that even the slightest breeze of air causes agony. I remember one spell that turned a man's blood to acid in his veins so that he screamed for days on end as his life vos eaten away by his lifeblood." He shuddered. "To cast these spells requires you to truly vant that to happen to your victim, to even revel in the pain that you cause vith your magic. It is...dangerous."

Harry sat quietly, then blurted out, "Why'd you agree to help me with this, then? You looked like you were about to drop back there." He looked down at his hands. "You're channeling your inner psychopath. That can't be healthy."

Krum croaked out a laugh. "It is not. Vhy do you think ve have Dark Vizards in the first place? Contrary to vhat Hermy-own-ninny might think, Durmstrang does not teach the Dark Arts to everyone. They view the Dark Arts as a tool, yes, but a tool in the hands of an idiot is a dangerous thing. They carefully observe all of the students, and only the strongest-willed, most skilled, and most determined are taught, but only after careful instruction never to use such arts vantonly."

"You haven't answered my question." Harry pointed out, but without rancor.

Krum shrugged, and Harry smiled unconsciously at the fast-becoming-familiar gesture. "You need everything to fight You-Know-Who. And you vill be doing the hard part. Ve must arm you vith all of our knowledge. Or these Dark Arts that we all loathe so much...they vill destroy everything ve hold dear, and everything others hold dear as vell. So ve vill study the arts of the enemy, so that ve may better destroy him."

"Heh." Harry's smile blossomed into a full-blown grin. "Hermione was right. You would have made a great Gryffindor."

Krum blinked. "She said that?" A pleased smile curved the hard lines of his mouth.

"Yep." Harry stood up and stretched. "Look, I know we're on a time-table and all, but I really don't want to try that spell right now-"

The Bulgarian held up a hand, forestalling him. "I understand. Read the books, perhaps practice your vandvork vith spells you feel more comfortable vith. I vould suggest vorking on your aim vith a human target." He looked at Saber. "Saber?"

"Of course." Harry gulped as her gaze swiveled to land firmly on him. "I expect your aim to be better this time, Harry. The head is a small target, but your spells are unlikely to be shifted by external conditions, so you have no excuse."

"Hey, on second thought, can we try practicing that curse-" Harry gabbled out, backing away from Saber.

Krum gave him a very deliberate look, then lay back down on the couch and closed his eyes. "I am tired."

"You bastard." The younger man muttered.

"Harry..."

"Okay, okay, I'm going! Sheesh, you'd think you wouldn't be thrilled about getting shot at-I'm going!"

* * *

_Day Twenty (Ten Days Since Arrival)_

"Ha, ha, ha..."

Legs pumping, Harry circled around the cabin, breath misting the frigid air. The morning sun cast beams of light down all around him, turning his temporary home into a shining spectacle of beauty that he would really have enjoyed under other circumstances.

"Continue, Harry." Saber encouraged, easily matching his stride. "You have only five more laps to complete."

Only _five? _

"There's...always those lovely...push-ups." Harry gasped out. "Oh...let's not forget the bar..."

"Of course we will not forget the bar." Saber sniffed. "It would be rude to ignore Viktor's work after he went to so much trouble to craft it."

Harry spared the time for a suspicious glance, or as suspicious as he could muster with his lungs feeling like they were about to shrivel up and die. "Since...when do you...call him Viktor?"

"Since he proved to be a worthy companion." Saber cast him an oblique look. "He is a good person, Harry."

"Really now," The Chosen One grumbled, but let the point drop. Of course Krum was a good person; Kingsley would never have let him in the Order, especially with his training in Dark Arts. Over the last few days, Harry had seen exactly why Hermione had enjoyed his company so much. The scowl that Krum wore may have been his default expression around say, fangirls, but in private he was a much different person. In the short time they had lived together Harry had seen the previously stoic Bulgarian Seeker smile, flush, and laugh far more frequently than ever before. It was a rather startling transformation from the grim young man who had once used the Cruciatus Curse on Cedric, albeit on orders from a Death Eater. For her part, Saber had developed a liking for their only other companion, her initial distrust of him fading away after they had settled in to the cabin.

Yes, Krum was a good person, but he was also a strict taskmaster, and so currently engaged in strenuous exercise; Harry was not much inclined to look kindly on the man who contributed to his torture.

After the eighth lap, he was finding it hard to hold his head up, as well as his legs feeling like someone had hit him with the Jelly-Legs Jinx. His breath, he noticed distantly, was coming in much harder gasps than before, so much so that it seemed the act of breathing itself was draining him.

"He is running out of steam." Hearing the familiar baritone, Harry directed a weak glare at its owner, who stood by the side of the cabin, watching his progress with crossed arms.

"Unfortunately," Saber agreed, still not winded in the slightest. "His stamina leaves much to be desired."

Krum tapped his chin with one finger. "I may have a solution." His wand appeared in his hand as if by magic, and Harry groaned at himself for even thinking of such a terrible pun. _"Porcus."_

And suddenly, the Chosen One found himself staring deep into bellicose, red-tinted eyes as a massive boar suddenly barred his way, intimidatingly-long tusks frighteningly close to his vulnerable, fleshy body.

"Motivation," Saber commented, "a valid tactic. I like it."

Harry gulped, taking one step backwards. "N-Nice piggy...Oink?" he offered tentatively.

The boar's red eyes narrowed, and it let out a very unamused snort. One hoof pawed the ground restlessly, and its hind legs tensed.

"Oh no..."

The boar charged. Harry yelled. And discovered that he had more strength in his legs than he had reckoned.

"You better stop him after five laps!" he shouted, just before the boar lunged and they both disappeared behind the cabin. Another loud, desperate curse could be heard, followed by a bestial grunt of porcine rage.

"Are you really going to stop it after five laps?" Saber asked the other wizard. "You did give your word."

"Of course." Krum declared. "Vhat, do you take me for a barbarian? I keep my promises."

* * *

_Day Forty (Twenty Days Since Arrival)_

"_Crucio."_

"_Protego Depello!"_

The painful tingling in his body subsided, but instead of pressing his attack, Harry whirled, swinging his practice blade outwards. It collided with another piece of wood with a _clack_ as Saber appeared from thin air without warning. As her feet touched the ground the Boy-Who-Lived aimed an overhand cut at her head. Her own sword deflected the clumsy blow, sending his intended strike awry and forcing him to backpedal frantically.

"_Cruentus Ignis-"_

"_Disruptis!" _Harry barked out, twitching his wand hand and parrying a downward slash with his other hand almost simultaneously, though roughly. Saber's eyes narrowed as she slashed again and again, transitioning smoothly from one strike to the other, searching for weaknesses in his defenses or spots to create those weaknesses.

While he was holding up well, the practice sword was not suited for a one-handed grip, being a true, two-handed blade. He also lacked the power to hold off Saber's strokes with only one hand, and though the temptation to cast a spell at her was strong, the effort would be rewarded by an increase in the brutality of Saber's attacks. The situation needed to be changed up.

His wand fell from suddenly-loosened fingers, and as his opponent's attention was diverted by that for a split-second, he gripped his makeshift weapon with both hands, gritted his teeth, and met the assault squarely, concentrating furiously on each blow. Wood met wood again and again as the blades weaved an intricate and deadly dance, never pausing for more time than it took for them to thump together and separate.

Saber's strikes were powerful, fueled as they were by her inhuman strength, but she was not going even close to all out, and for that reason alone Harry's hard-won skill and strength were enough to keep her at bay for now.

Off to the side, wand held forgotten in his hand, Krum observed the two duelists as they stabbed, parried, dodged, and slashed. Though he was no swordsman, he was a very perceptive individual and could easily see the differences in the two fighters' styles.

Saber's was the more eye-catching; she was a whirlwind of motion, hitting fast and hard, always pressing forward without ever slowing. Each strike was textbook-perfect, executed without flaws and without hesitation.. Against her, most people would have been overwhelmed by now, unused to fighting a foe that defied all the laws of physics.

Potter, however, had been fighting her for more than a month now, for a good chunk of every day. While his own movements were still slow and awkward compared to the knight he faced, he compensated with precision and care, making sure that his limited reactions placed his blade in the areas that would count the most. He stoically weathered the storm of strikes unleashed by Saber, focusing mostly on stopping her attacks but occasionally managing his own offense. It was invariably parried or deflected, but the fact that he could even manage an attack through his beleaguered defense was an immense credit to him. Saber was fast and strong, but her attacks were guided largely by instinct, sharp and honed as it might be, and so Potter was able to survive, somehow.

Still, Saber had years and years of experience, backed up by her natural fighting talent, and when her superior physical attributes came into play there was only one way this could end, no matter how valiantly the last Potter fought.

* * *

Harry found himself on his back, again, a metal boot grinding painfully into his chest.

"Did-did I do better this time?" he managed.

Saber removed her foot and gripped his hand, pulling him to his feet. Though she said nothing, there was a faint gleam of pride in her eyes.

"Vell fought, my friends." Krum strode towards them, smiling. "That vos most impressive. You haff improved tremendously."

"I still didn't beat her." Harry pointed out.

"I have fought hundreds of battles, and out of all those only one man has ever managed to defeat me." Saber proclaimed. "I am not easy to kill, Harry, but you did well."

"I suppose it is good you shoot so high, but it is not realistic. Saber is obviously an exceptional warrior and her particular style makes her even deadlier, but you vere able to hold your own. Your strategy vos sound, and it vill only become more effective as your skills increase." Krum looked quite happy. "Ve are not struggling in vain."

"Thanks." Harry rubbed the back of his head, feeling embarrassed. "I know it couldn't be rewarding seeing me flounder over the last couple of days without any sign of improvement."

"Our plight is still grave, but this is heartening." Saber agreed. "Well done, Harry. That was almost half an hour."

"Yeah," Harry let out a breath, "I'm feeling every one of those seconds." His body ached tremendously, but it was a good pain, a pain that let him know he was accomplishing something. Behind him, tendrils of darkness began to creep forward as the sun descended in the evening sky. "Are we gonna do the rewind? I'm really, really beat."

"I would normally say aye, but you have earned your rest. Too much exertion can do more harm than it does help." Saber replied. Krum nodded his assent.

"Go and get some rest. Ve vill let this one day go." The Bulgarian jerked his head towards the cabin. "Tomorrow ve vill resume our exercises."

"Am I still going to be chased by the boar?" Harry jested, even as he trudged back towards the building.

"No, at this level you vould either curse it to death or kill it vith splinters by thrusting your sword up its mouth." Krum nodded to Saber. "She vill be taking over that duty."

Harry just groaned, not even able to muster a protest, and walked away.

_Sleep now, face sadistic teachers later._

Once the cabin door slammed, Krum turned away, looking out into the lengthening night. The shadows were bolder now, no longer creeping but flowing brazenly forward as the light vanished.

"A fitting metaphor." He had not meant to speak out loud, but the words had slipped out regardless.

"For our situation? Yes, but it is not as bleak as all that." Saber moved up beside him, dress rippling in a sudden gust of wind. For practice purposes she had chosen not to manifest her armor.

"No," he agreed, "ve are getting somevhere, though I haff no idea vhere ve are going, nor vhere ve haff been." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Do you?"

"I have ascertained that your magecraft is nothing like that I know of." She replied. "I do not know how, but somehow Harry is supplying me with the full amount of prana I require, with no cost to himself."

Krum did a double-take, then shrugged. It was not what he had asked, but he decided to go along with it.

"I know nothing about 'prana', but it is possible that you haff established a direct link vith his magical core, and so are provided vith his magic." Krum frowned. "But usually vhen a core is compromised like that it has catastrophic effects on the vizard...Potter has certainly suffered no ill effects, so I do not believe that is the case."

Saber shrugged. "We have no means to discover the cause, and frankly there are more pressing matters to take our attention. Perhaps when this is over I will seek an answer, but for now..."

"Yes." Evening had given way to full dusk, and now he could barely see his companion, making out only the gleam of her armor and the swaying blond strands of her hair. "The present is enough for us now, vithout considering the future."

Silence fell between the two, a comfortable one that did not require words to fill the void. Krum smiled to himself; to think that he would be so comfortable around the walking enigma that was Saber seemed absurd, and yet not as much as what he found himself immersed in.

"What amuses you?"

So much for the silence.

"This entire situation." he answered honestly. "It is frankly something out of an epic fantasy. A young boy vith the veight of the vorld on his shoulders coming into his own, an evil to be vanquished...ve vizards are taught not to get carried away in such fancies. My old professor vould have a coronary if he could see me now."

"Let us hope it has the ending most of those fantasies do." Saber smiled; though still rare, it had a way of occurring more often lately. "I believe at least some of us deserve that."

"Mm," Krum nodded.

Quiet enveloped the clearing again.

* * *

_Day Sixty-Two (Thirty-One Days Since Arrival)_

"This-" Harry panted, "is not working."

Saber padded across the snow to the tree that now sported a new branch, even now quivering in the trunk. A hard pull freed the weapon from the bark and she tossed it back to her student, who caught it reflexively.

"Practice more, then." She said firmly. "That is the only remedy for sloppy technique."

"It's not the technique, Saber." Harry retorted, stung that she would say something like that. Well, it was true his moves were not perfect, but that was not the problem. "I'm just not suited to your style."

"Nonsense," Saber returned. Despite the calm in her tone, Harry distinctly saw one fine eyebrow twitch, "if I learned how to utilize it, then you should be able to as well."

"You were trained for it!" Harry hated the petulant tone his voice took on; it sounded as if he were making excuses. "For the first eleven years of my life I was fed leftovers, when my uncle decided I couldn't go another day without requiring him to pay for a hospital bill." Seeing his teacher look unimpressed, he redoubled his efforts. "Look, Saber: your fighting style is basically to hammer the guy into the ground through sheer force delivered through mind-blowing speed. I'm assuming you did this while you were alive, too, so it can't be just because of your Servant power. I get that. But me-" he waved one arm wildly, "I can't do that. I'm not a wall of muscle. I'm kind of skinny and not all that buff. Malnutrition doesn't help. We don't have time to turn me into Hercules. I'm sure you know another style, you kind of have to, so maybe-"

The barely-perceptible hardening in her eyes cut him off as surely as if she had yelled at him. "If you spent as much time practicing the techniques as you did fabricating excuses you would certainly be at my level by now."

A pit seemed to open in Harry's stomach as he watched her walk away, boots thumping against the ground. "S-Saber! Wait!" She gave no sign that she had heard, vanishing into the cabin with the click of the door against its frame.

Harry suddenly wanted nothing more than to sit down and put his head in his hands. "Shit," he murmured to himself, "what have I done now?"

"Back home, had you injured a voman like that, her father, brothers, and husband vould have all clamored to duel you for impugning her honor."

The shadow intersecting his was just as much a clue as that familiar accent, tinged with barely-suppressed humor.

"Shut up, Krum. I'm really not in the mood."

"Saber does not much care for excuses, no matter how vell-founded they might be." The other man carried on as if Harry had not spoken. "You are going to haff to prove it to her, beyond a shadow of a doubt."

The Gryffindor snorted, lifting his head to give Krum a sardonic stare. "Where do you figure that from?"

"Simply from living vith her for two months." The Bulgarian regarded him with an amused look in his eyes. "Vhat exactly is the problem, Potter? You seemed to hold up against her vell enough two weeks ago."

"Yeah, but that's part of the reason I couldn't do it longer." Harry noted with surprise that the sallow man seemed to be genuinely listening to him. "Right, I'm not stupid. Saber can get away with that kind of approach because she's both extremely fast, extremely strong, and small at that so she can throw her weight around even more quickly. She's also got enough experience fighting people that even if someone tries to adapt to her style and push her back, she can probably deal with that easily because in all of her years of fighting it's likely she's seen that before. We won't even consider the whole boost in power Servant-hood gives her, but I think that's a pretty good summary right there."

Krum simply nodded. Emboldened, Harry continued.

"I, on the other hand, have a lifetime of not eating well to deal with." Again, Harry cringed at the sound of his words; the abuse the Dursleys had heaped on him had never been a problem before when he spoke of it, but now it sounded like a weak attempt at avoiding physical exertion. No wonder Saber was mad. "I'm also naturally skinny, and not particularly tall either so I can't use that as leverage against an opponent. I didn't exercise much besides Qudditch, so I don't have a lot of stamina. If I try her kind of charge against a Death Eater, he'll throw a curse or two to make me blink, maybe Apparate a few times, and then I'm out of breath, can't pursue him, and he can just blast me with the Killing Curse and I'm done." He shook his head, suddenly tired and wanting to just flop into the snow. "There's also the issue that she's making me use a two-handed sword, which doesn't leave room for my wand. It's not working, Krum. It just isn't."

He felt the Bulgarian's hawk-like stare linger on him for another moment, then the Seeker rose abruptly and left, crunching the snow as he ascended the steps back into their home.

Alone now, Harry finally gave in to his weariness and let himself slide down into the snow, falling onto his back and gazing up at the impossibly-blue sky.

_Ugh..._

The practice sword was still in his hand, the leather grip comfortably rough against his skin. He brought it up against the backdrop of the sky, noting the tell-tale cracks and pits in its surface where it had clashed against its twin. Harry remembered dimly that Transfigured objects had a tendency to pale in durability compared to the real things; only skilled wizards could create exact copies. Harry had no experience to judge, but he was pretty certain Krum was one of them. Some of the blows Saber had rained down would have cracked his skull, but the sword was holding up better than a piece of wood should have.

Better, arguably, than he was.

_What if this whole thing is pointless? Here I am, trying desperately to learn years and years' worth of magic in months, as well as attempting to master a fighting style that takes at least a decade to do so. What's worse is that I'm not even very good at it. Damnit! If the world is still depending on us the world is well and truly f-_

His bitter reverie was so consuming, the emotions and thoughts raging around in his head so powerfully, that he did not notice the practice sword being taken from his grip, nor the flash and accompanying sounds of matter being twisted into a new shape.

"Here."

Harry jerked, thoughts derailed, as the practice blade landed on his chest. He picked it up, and immediately realized that it was no longer a replica of the two-handed longsword Saber favored. Though still the same general shape, the overall weapon was slightly shorter, with the hilt having been shrunk until there was only enough room for one hand to grasp it. As for the blade, it had apparently been compressed, becoming narrower and more pointed at its tip.

"What's this?"

"Your new veapon." Krum grunted. "Get up, Potter. I do not like leaning over you."

Bemusedly, he humored his teacher and lifted himself out of the snow, shaking off the bits that still clung to his clothes. "Can I get a little more detail?"

"It is an arming sword. Saber suggested it for you, after I vos able to convince her of the validity of your arguments. It only requires the use of one hand, so your vand hand is free." Seeing Harry's look of astonishment, Krum waved a hand irritably. "I did not do you a favor. She expects you to train even harder now to prove you vere not just blowing steam. In fact," he gave the Boy-Who-Lived an oblique look, "it might even be harder for you. Most of your sparring sessions do not involve your vand, so you are going to have to fight off Saber vith only one hand."

Harry felt a smile twitch the corners of his mouth up. "As long as I don't have to use strength and speed I don't have, I think I'll be fine."

The Bulgarian turned to look contemplatively up at the sky. "Saber is not ignorant of the threat ve face, but she did not fully grasp that you vould not be fighting enemies who favored close-combat, but opportunistic, back-stabbing cowards who vill try to kill you from far away. Your main weapon is your vand, not your sword, but it vill come in handy nevertheless."

Harry swung the practice sword in a test arc, already feeling the difference. Though of course the wooden weapon would never be as heavy as its metal template, he could tell the arming sword would be lighter than the longsword; perhaps not by much, but it would be easier to maneuver.

The crunch of breaking snow caught his attention, and he looked up in time to see Krum making his way back to the cabin for the second time.

"Hey." The Bulgarian looked back at him. "Thanks." Krum twitched his head in a nod, and then disappeared into the house.

Harry looked again at his new weapon; the previous longsword was similar enough to this that adjustments would probably be minor, but still significant enough to require practice.

_Might as well start right now, right?_

Almost immediately he was confronted by quite a major difference: Saber's ready stance took one of two forms, either with the sword held in front of her in both hands, the tip angling towards the opponent, or down at her side with the blade parallel to the ground and her side turned towards her enemy. The latter felt extremely awkward with only one hand to grip the sword, and he had a sneaking suspicion any blows executed with that kind of stance would be weak and unbalanced. A shift to the former yielded a more natural feel, but even here his left hand felt strange without anything to hold. He settled for only a minor change to the position, with his left hand held in front of him as if for grappling; in real battle it would hold his wand but this would do for now.

When he began his regular routine of cuts and thrusts, it became steadily apparent that he would have to adjust his movements substantially. The two-handed grip of the longsword provided more finesse and also allowed for stronger blows, but suffered a limited range of motion compared to its one-handed counterpart. The arming sword, in contrast, benefited from a greater freedom due to its place in only one hand. While it seemed more suited to cutting than thrusting, despite its narrow point, it could do both reasonably well. As he swung the blade in a horizontal cut before twitching it into a downward stroke that would have hamstrung his opponent, Harry noted that his new weapon was arguably more suited to the cobbled-together, mishmash of moves that constituted his 'style'.

_You know, the only people I'll really be fighting with this thing are probably the vampires and the werewolves...crap._

Harry could not help a shudder. The memory of Remus transforming into a slavering beast intent on death and carnage had never truly left him, though he had managed not to consciously associate it with his teacher.

_Ugh...my wand is my best bet against Greyback and his mates._

With that cheery thought in mind, he threw himself back into the routine, finding with dismay that he seemed so much clumsier than ever before. What hasty training he had received was almost exclusively for the use of a two-handed sword.

_I've got my work cut out for me._

* * *

_Day Seventy (Thirty-Five Days Since Arrival)_

Harry was eating toast and absently flipping through one of Remus' textbooks (reading and doing something else was surprisingly easy once you got the hang of it) when a knock on the door told him Krum was back. He rose from the table, putting down his book, and went to answer the door.

"Hey. Find anything interesting?"

Krum held out a newspaper. "Other than this, no. Lower Yorkham is not the most active of places; they do not seem to care about current events much."

After the first month's worth of time the Time-Turner had given them, Krum had begun to make infrequent but random sojourns out of the cabin. He claimed it was to keep track of what day it was and to keep aware of the area around them, but Harry suspected it was just a way to get out of the cramped area. He could not blame him, either. It was pretty weird seeing your past selves walk around.

It was actually pretty simple; everyone knew about the Time-Turners, so interactions were limited strictly to strained greetings and then Harry and his companions would do his best to stay the hell out of the other three's way. Fortunately, Krum had designed the training regimen so that half the day was spent inside studying theory, while the other half was undertaken outside, exercising and engaging in practical spellwork. They would simply switch spaces when it was time, so they actually saw very little of their doppelgangers.

_Doesn't mean it isn't weird as hell._

Harry took the newspaper and scanned it idly as he returned to his seat. The news was pretty much what he had come to expect; the Ministry was still offering rewards to his whereabouts, Muggles continued to die in 'unexplained accidents', and there were increased reports of giants, vampires, and other unsavory creatures migrating from their chosen abodes.

"He is gathering an army, yes." Krum slouched over to join him. "For what purpose, I do not know; he currently rules Britain in all but name. Perhaps he is readying for assaults against other countries."

"We need to stop him before he gets that far." Harry folded up the paper and left it next to his plate. "But we still have no idea where or what the other Horcruxes might be."

"I believe Dumbledore's reasoning was sound; You-Know-Who vould have vanted only the most prestigious of objects to house his soul. Vith the diary, the ring, and the locket destroyed, he only has three left. You said Dumbledore believed one vas the snake, Nagini, and another vas a cup belonging to Hufflepuff. That would leave one more, vhich ve do not know. Their locations, however, are another matter..." Krum sat down heavily, placing his wand on the table beside him. "You are certain one is in Hogwarts; ve can be equally certain the snake vill alvays be vith him. Vhere vould the other one be..." he paused, brow furrowed. "Hmm...vhere vould he put something so valuable that he could be certain it vould be safe?"

"A safe place..." Harry murmured, half-forgotten words ringing in his memory.

_Gringotts is the safest place in the Wizarding World! 'Cept Hogwarts, 'course..._

"Gringotts," he blurted out, "it's at Gringotts."

A slight widening of the eyes was Krum's only indication that he was surprised. "...That vould make sense. It is extremely difficult to penetrate the vaults vithout being caught. Yes, I think you are right."

"How are we gonna get in there?" Harry leaned back against his chair gloomily. "We're not exactly equipped to break into a normal bank, let alone Gringotts."

"You are not utilizing all our resources." Krum chided, shaking a finger at him. "Ve haff Saber on our side, who is immune to magic. I doubt they haff anything that could stop us, especially on such short notice. And there is not only her, but also you," here he gestured at himself, "and I. Ve are not completely incompetent in the arts of combat, especially after these two months of training. With these advantages and the fact that they vill not be expecting us, ve are better equipped than you realize."

"He'll know we're on to him then." Despite his protest, Harry was beginning to warm to the idea. After all this running and hiding, it felt good to contemplate the idea of a strike back against the enemy.

"He vould haff to catch on some time." Krum shrugged. "Still, once he does it vill be difficult to continue our training. I vould suggest ve take some more time to brush up on your skills. Two weeks should be sufficient; that is probably all the time we can spare."

Harry nodded. "I've memorized most of the spells from Remus' books, and used them often enough in our duels. I _think _I've gotten most of those Mediwizard spells down too, for the most common injuries. As for the Dark Arts," he grimaced, "well...I'm as prepared as I can be. I can cast the Deathwind Curse, which by the way is really unpleasant, and throw off the effects of what you can hit me with most of the time. Transfiguration seems to be the hard part; I can't always finish the transformation."

"You haff learned quickly, it is true." Krum nodded. "However, Transfiguration is perhaps the hardest of these arts; my personal experience vas that it always required more time and practice than the others. Fortunately, I should be able to make up the difference."

"I don't want to rely on you, though. This is my fight-"

"Not only yours." The Bulgarian flicked an impatient hand at his student. "It is ours just as much as yours, and I vill do my best to make up for any shortcomings you might have. That is teamwork, no?" Dark brown eyes glared into bright green. "Put your hero complex away, Potter. This is bigger than you."

Harry managed a smile. "Sorry."

_Sorry, Viktor. I can't agree with you. This isn't bigger than me, it's exactly a_s_ big as me. He tried to kill me, and still is. This is all because of me, but not for any longer. No one else is going to die for me. Not if I can help it._

Krum's hawk-eyed stare lingered on him for a moment, as if not fully believing him, then the Bulgarian's gaze shifted to something behind him.

"Hello, Saber. Is it time already?"

Harry turned, his stomach sinking in his chest.

"Yes, it is." Metal clinked against metal as Saber strode through the doorway, a practice blade in each hand. "You have been doing well, Harry. Show me that it is not just a trick of fate."

Harry gulped, wondering if he might not try a spot of Disapparation right then and there. _Damnit, is there an anti-Disapparation Charm on the grounds? I can't remember..._

"Yes, there is." Krum's eyes glinted. "I vould not advise attempting to do so."

In return he received an emerald glare, before the Chosen One's shoulders slumped and he accepted the wooden blade from his partner.

"One of these days, I'll get you back for this." he threatened, as he followed Saber out through the door. Krum snorted, then pulled the textbook across the table and began to flip through it.

"Try it," he called back, as the door closed, "and I vill turn you into a toad."

* * *

The snow crunched beneath a booted foot as he pivoted, cutting an imaginary foe in two with one hack of his blade. Harry kept moving - _"Never stand still, Harry, that is the fastest way to die" - _, pressing forward past the nonexistent body and working the wooden blade through a series of basic cuts. His left hand still hung awkwardly in the air, but he managed to keep it steady, at least.

He transitioned to a more complicated move: a downward left cut that flicked into a rightward slash, which in turn segued into a spinning horizontal swing. His balance was off; he could tell that immediately. The move was an improvisation, a hasty addition cobbled together from the brief times he'd seen Saber fight, and even as he swept into the move he dismissed the thought of keeping it in his arsenal.

_Good luck trying to fight like Saber, you nimrod. Didn't you waste a bunch of words trying to tell her you couldn't-_

Suddenly, pain surged in his forehead, so unexpectedly that the sword fell from slack fingers. Both hands flew to his scar, but the pain continued, a searing blaze that burned so hot he thought his head would melt-

_-And he was looking again for the blonde-haired thief, who had stolen his prize from Gregorovitch, but where had he gone and what had happened to the most powerful of wands? His frustration was spreading, and he could feel the power inside him, different from his magic, react to him, eager to do his bidding-_

-the pain was spreading through his body now, setting his nerves alight, distantly Harry registered that this had never happened before but the pain was too great, focus was impossible-

_-and now he stared into the eyes of the boy once more, Bellatrix sobbing at his feet, and even more than the galling loss of the prophecy was the burning need to know what this mongrel had stolen from him-_

-the fire was consuming his body, every inch of it was screaming in agony, he could not help it, he threw his head back and screamed, long and loud-

_- He watched in dissatisfaction as the wind reached a howling pitch, but the tornado that he had once been able to summon was beyond him. What had once distinguished him from the masses of other wizards had lessened; it was still there but diminished, and he had no idea what it was or how to go about restoring it-_

"Harry!"

-_but wait...he was somewhere else now, lying in the snowy ground, looking out as a blond-haired woman charged towards him, wearing a breastplate and armored plates situated on her dress, and he realized he was looking through the boy's eyes now. Exultation seared through him; there was the boy! He reached out, taking control of the boy's body-_

-Harry felt his lips part; desperately, he tried to keep them together, but the presence in his mind was too strong and _he is mine I will destroy him say the name say it say it-_

"VOLDEMORT!"

Someone was carrying him through the air, and suddenly he was Harry again, tired, sweating, with a hollow feeling in his stomach that worsened as he realized exactly what had happened. He felt his back hit the soft cushions of the couch, and looked up to see worried green eyes staring down at him.

"Harry, what happened-"

"He knows," he blurted out, before she could finish. "He found his way into my mind- made me scream his name - and now he knows where we are."

To her credit, Saber simply nodded sharply before turning and shouting, "Viktor! We must be away!" The Bulgarian Seeker's only reply was a grunt, before a call of _"Accio Books." _

Saber turned back to her Master, regarding him carefully. "How is he pursuing us?"

"He can fly," Harry gasped out, "without a broom or anything. I'm assuming just as fast."

"Is it your scar?" Krum asked, walking over as plates continued to fly into the bag he was holding. Harry could only nod. "So he knows vhere ve are...hmm, this could be troubling if he is able to peer into your mind like that-"

"Can we discuss that later?" The Chosen One snapped. "We need to go!"

Krum's brow furrowed but he obeyed, turning back to summon more of the paraphernalia of life into the seemingly-inexhaustible bags he carried. "I believe your training is over, then. Ve might as well put our plans into place."

"Yeah, as soon as we lose him." Harry replied. "You got the map? We'll pick one and go." In answer, the older man tossed him the piece of parchment, which he unrolled and held out in front of him. "Right, we're here in the mountains, so we can do some Apparation to throw him off our trail; then we can head for here-"

* * *

"_Stupefy-"_

"_Ventus!"_

A howling gust of wind swept the Death Eater off his broom; he fell with a scream. Harry ignored the momentary pang of guilt as Krum threw the Firebolt into a hurtling dive to avoid a steady stream of sapphire light that blasted past them, resonating with an unearthly thrum. Behind him came the tell-tale sounds of magic expending itself uselessly on inhuman power as Saber absorbed the spells meant for them.

As they leveled out, two Death Eaters came alongside them. Harry raised his wand, but Krum was quicker; the first Death Eater yelled in shock as shadows rippled over his face. He fell back, clawing at the spell in mindless panic, while the other fired off a pair of Stunners. Even hampered by the weight of two passengers, Krum easily sideslipped the spells, before twitching his wand. The Death Eater rose off his broom, arms windmilling wildly, before Krum flicked his wand to the right and his victim plummeted to the ground, screaming.

The Bulgarian returned the Firebolt to full speed, casually taking the broom through several loops and twists to dodge more curses. Even with deadly spells flying around him, Harry had to admire his companion's skill; the broom was an extension of him, not just something he sat on.

For some reason, Voldemort himself had not yet appeared, and though it raised troubling questions what he was doing, right now Harry was all too happy for the Dark Lord to be somewhere else. He had enough on his plate right now.

"We gotta lose them!" he shouted into Krum's ear.

"Vhat vould you suggest?" the Seeker returned, and though his voice could barely be heard above the heavy air currents Harry thought he detected exasperation.

They had actually managed to get on Krum's broom (Harry felt a twinge of envy that the other Seeker still had his) and fly at least two miles away from the cottage before the inevitable storm of Death Eaters had arrived, a dozen in black cloaks and silver masks. Between them, Harry and Krum had taken down five of them, but the other seven showed no sign of slowing the pursuit.

"I dunno, some kind of tornado to knock them down?" Harry bellowed back. "You know anything like that?"

In response, Krum simply turned back and shouted a word that Harry did not catch, flicking his wand like a maestro conducting an orchestra. Towards the sky, to the ground, across the horizon, the wand moved quickly and deftly, until just as it seemed the maneuvers would never stop, Krum slashed it through the air in front of him and shouted again.

Harry twisted around just in time to see torrents and torrents of water appear from nowhere and dump down upon the Death Eaters with the force of a typhoon. It was as if they had been blasted with a hose from a fire truck; the entire strike force was simply swatted from the air and lost height rapidly, regardless of whether or not they were still on their brooms.

"Son of a -"

"God's name-"

Both his and Saber's oaths were interrupted when the Firebolt went into an alarming nose-dive. Wind blasted past his face, and his glasses were almost wrenched from their perch.

"The hell-?"

The cause was obvious; Krum was slumped over the broom, and though his face was not visible it was obvious he was struggling to keep them aloft.

"Krum, you all right?"

"No," the response was almost inaudible, "but I vill live. Ve must land, I cannot continue flying."

With that, the Firebolt dipped, slowing rapidly as the blurring landscape of trees and rocks below did likewise. A clearing made itself visible and Harry felt the shift in direction as Krum angled their broom towards it. The Bulgarian swayed; Harry hooked one arm around the sallow man's waist and pulled back, propping him up.

"Hang on there." With the altitude dropping rapidly and the winds proportionally decreasing, it was no longer necessary to scream. "Can you still travel?"

"Ve have no choice." Krum's voice trembled with fatigue. "Ve may haff lost them for now, but they vill gather again. Ve-" he coughed, "must continue to the safe-house."

The Firebolt touched down at last, hovering above the ground, and Harry caught his companion before the older man could pitch onto the dirt. Krum sagged into Harry's arms, trying to pick himself up.

"Good god, what did you _do_?"

"There is a Transfiguration spell...to turn air to water...I haff never used it in such strength before..." Krum gasped out. "I vill not do that again anytime soon." Finally, he managed to stand, waving off Harry's ready arms. "Ve must go."

"Are you sure?" Saber inquired, still perched on the floating Firebolt. "You do not seem in condition for another flight."

"Potter can do it." Krum grunted. "He is perhaps the only vizard I know who can match me on a broom."

Having seen exactly what the Bulgarian Seeker was capable of, even under intense fire and burdened by two other people, Harry was inclined to disagree. He opened his mouth, then thought better of it.

_Hey, it's a compliment, right? He's probably right anyway; I think I can do that._

He took a step towards the Firebolt. Three things happened at once.

First, a streak of black light struck the hovering broom, consuming it in a sudden shower of flame and splintering bits of wood. Saber, still astride the stick, vanished in the inferno.

Second, another streak hurled itself at him, and before he could even bring his wand up Krum had shouted something and deflected the curse with a snap of his wrist.

Third, something struck Harry from his feet with the force a giant's hand and threw him across the clearing with bone-jarring force. He felt his body hit the ground and bounce; once, twice, a third time, and he caught a glimpse of a tree trunk rushing towards him.

_Oh shi-_

The sound of his head making contact with the tree was incredibly unpleasant, even before the sensation of pain added itself to the equation. His vision grayed out, and splitting pain shot through his head. He dimly felt himself rebound off the tree and fall like a rag doll to the ground. One of his hands struck a rock and gashed itself on a sharp edge.

…

For a moment he simply lay there, wind knocked out of him and a raccoon gnawing on his brain, listening idly to the strange noises that found their way to his ears. There was something important about them, he knew that, but for some reason he could not remember what, nor could he really bring himself to care. It hurt too much to think.

"Potter! Get the hell up!" Krum's strain-filled shout was followed by a grunt of pain.

Memory slammed back with the force of a freight train, immediately making the headache inconsequential. They were in trouble, deep trouble. His hand groped in his robes for his wand. Panic shot through him when the familiar wood handle failed to manifest.

"Damnit, where is it-" His elbow brushed against something hard, and he grabbed at it instinctively, recognizing the feel of the object immediately.

_That was stupid. It was right there!_

Now properly armed, he leaped up and charged headlong towards the remains of the burning broom.

"Krum-"

The scene that met his eyes stopped him cold.

Krum was slumped next to the steadily-blazing bonfire, clutching the stump of his severed wrist in his other hand. The amputated hand lay next to him, wand still clutched in rapidly-paling fingers. Blood was pumping steadily from his stump, shining black in the flames' light.

Not far away, Saber was moving like a tempest, raw power and force wrapped in chains of iron control but expressed in grace and precision. She spun, twirled, leaped and rolled, Excalibur slashing through air and bursts of magic equally easily. Any mortal opponent would have been utterly vanquished within the first few seconds of her assault.

But her opponent was holding up just fine, Apparating in sharp cracks to avoid the storm in Saber's hands. The very earth was responding to his commands, rising up to entrap the king of knights' legs in prisons of stone and granite, or sinking down underneath her armored boots into pools of sticky and encumbering mud. White lightning rained down upon her and black flames pelted her armor, detonating in puffs of shadow that dissipated as soon as they touched her. None of it had any discernable effect on the Servant, but the rain of power showed no sign of stopping any time soon and when he caught a glimpse of the pale-as-marble face and red-slitted eyes, Harry knew why.

"Shit," he breathed.

"Indeed," Krum's voice was a shadow of its usual robust self, thin and filled with pain. "they are equally matched. Perhaps ve should simply let her dispose of him now." His stump had stopped bleeding, probably because of a spell, and he had shoved his hand into a pocket. Harry was briefly struck by a morbid desire to laugh, but decided that now was really not the time.

Watching Saber now, he was actually tempted to agree with Krum. She pressed Voldemort back, heedless of his skill and power. For probably the third time in his life, the Dark Lord was on the defensive, summoning the wrath of heaven and earth just to keep from being bisected by the howling wind. Even from a distance, it was clear only all of his concentration was keeping Saber at bay. One misstep would be his downfall. Even if he did just turn into a mutilated shadow of his former self, it would be vastly more easy to confine him, and it would be sufficient to imprison him until they could find and destroy the last of his Horcruxes. Then it would be his turn.

"Or not." At his side, Krum suddenly rose, gesturing sharply. The movement catching his attention, Harry swiveled to the right. Through the slowly-deepening shadows of twilight, he could see even darker shadows flitting through the glowing sky and while their progress did not seem to be particularly fast they were nevertheless closing at an alarming rate. A chill began to creep up his spine, and when he lifted a hand to his forehead, the skin was just as cold and starting to feel somewhat clammy.

"Dementors," he whispered. "Crap."

"Not only that," Krum lifted a hand to point to the left. Harry turned again, and with a groan saw more black-clad figures, this time all mounted on brooms and closing just as swiftly.

"Yeah, no. We can't do this. We need to go."

"My thoughts exactly. Ve are, however, novhere near the safehouse. Ve vill have to Apparate to throw them off our trail. Call back Saber."

"Okay-"

The ground rumbled, interrupting their conversation, and both wizards pivoted just to see a massive chunk of rock slam into Saber and throw her towards them at incredible speed.

"_Sisto!" _Krum's spell halted the errant knight, and she dropped to the ground once more, emerald eyes ablaze. One foot dug into the dirt in preparation for a bounding leap, and Harry slapped one hand onto her shoulder, halting her.

"No, Saber! We have to go now!" He nodded to Krum, who stepped close, gripping Harry's shoulder with his good hand and wrapping his bad arm around Saber's waist, who struggled in his grip.

"A true knight does not run from battle-"

"Then it's good two of us are wizards, right?" Harry snapped. He could feel the bitter chill that signified the closing proximity of the dementors, and his hand itched to cast a Patronus. "Come on, Krum!"

A howl of rage cut through the clearing like the blade of a knife, and with a sinking heart Harry saw the tall, black-shrouded form of Voldemort hurtle towards them, wand-hand outstretched and teeth bared in a rictus grin. He started, wand coming up, but before he could cast a spell Krum let out a pained grunt and the world disappeared.

_The town is silent, with only the smell of blood drifting over its filthy streets. Once five hundred people lived here, a bustling, yet cozy collection of colorful characters who bonded over shared dinners and monthly events. It had been a cheerful place, where people helped each other and no one ever went hungry if the town could help it. _

_And now, in place of laughter and joy, there is only the unnatural stillness of death._

_He does not know why he came to this place, nor why he killed everyone who called it home; he has long ceased to care. He was not hungry, nor did his beasts require nourishment. It was nothing but a whim, for is he not Chaos, the embodiment of random, never-ceasing change? He is no longer human, nor truly vampire. He has ascended and become a force of nature._

_And he enjoys it._

_He often wonders what will happen to him; the chaos that composes him should, theoretically, eventually break down into a formless mass in which nothing of the man once known as Fabro Rowan, nor of the vampire Nrvnsqr Chaos will remain. Such a thought does not bring him anxiety; in fact he looks forward to it, to seeing the ultimate expression of his chaos. After all, immortality was his goal, and this is another way of obtaining it._

_A flare of power disrupts his musing, and he notices prana, bright, clean energy that flows steadily, more than an ordinary magus can possibly possess. The senses of his beasts show him its source; the power is emanating from a valley some distance from this town. _

_It is nothing more than a whim that rouses him from his blood-reverie, to seek out this strange source of prana. Indeed, he has no thoughts for what it might be or why it has come here; no burning curiosity or cold reason drives him. He will go because he wants to, nothing more._

_That is Chaos._


End file.
